A Ghost

In the absence of the mind, the slow death of the heart, the air grows perilously thin. Your lungs begin to shrink, your eyes grow weak and you begin to only hear silence. Time grows longer and days become weary. Measures of distance are amplified, becoming relative to meaning. A loneliness embodies your existence, borrowing what life you have left; never to give it back. You feel nothing, not even the darkness that resembles the remnants of the soul. Looking in the mirror, not recognizing the reflection, you tremble on weak legs. At night you lie awake, feeling vacant, alone and cold. Sometimes you feel part of what was once there. You can’t name it; but you know it’s there, eating away at what’s left. A ghost that never wanes …






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