Ghost

I never wanted her love.

I wanted the tremor before she breaks.

The flicker in her eyes when trust begins to bloom,

the way her voice softens

when she says my name like it means something.

I study her until she feels seen.

I touch her as if she is something rare,

speak so she drinks in every word

like I'm her Fate.

She opens, and I take my time.

I feed her warmth until she glows with it,

until she forgets who she was before me.

That’s when I begin to pull away.

Not all at once.

Just enough for her to chase the ghost of what I gave.

Her confusion is exquisite.

The tears, the pleading,

the disbelief that I could abandon what I built.

She never sees it coming.

It was never about her.

It was the game,

the control,

the quiet thrill of being worshiped

by someone who thought she had finally been chosen.

I never stay for the ending.

I close the door on hope,

knowing realization blooms behind her eyes.

The silence that follows after I’m gone

is the only honest thing I ever gave her.