My Own Specter

What we became

I feel hollowed out

Like a husk but In reverse

A ghost haunting the land of the living.

Seen, casually regarded, disregarded, and unseen all in an instant

As if memory persists apart from me,robotically. carrying out daily tasks, mindlessly

I never believed in ghosts until I became one

In truth, even now, I’m not sure I’m real

Perhaps I exist within the imaginations of others

Perhaps what I call living is merely a program running as a background process on my hardware.

Living just has a way to make you question if you’re still breathing.

If your still you

My house is haunted by my specter

My marriage by memories made in gold

And my family attended by an illusion

I used to wonder what death felt like, until I died.

Until I became so unliving that I resembled a corpse

Until I attended my own funeral because of fear

Choices made,

Choices not,

Now I look out upon a world of gray from within my own prison.

I call out to the passers by,

Offering loving kindness with the hope of reciprocation

I pray to be seen,

to be cherished,

to be loved,

to be known