is this grief?

i would give anything to be strangers or friends again

because as it is i don’t know what to do with the ghost of you

i tried to bury

desperately

the hurt and the longing

the fear and resentment

but those feelings are 10 times worse

as undead

gnawing at me

so i opened myself up to the idea

of loving what you were

instead of hating that which you never could’ve been

i taped together ripped portraits

hoping that remembering would mend the break in me

that the chasm, where i kept your memory would close if used

but i couldn’t fill the empty conceptually

now, that i’m long past my anger and despair

i can speak of you in passing without dying

i remember things that i once pushed desperately away

fond memories

as if you’re moved away rather than hating me

how when we couldn’t see each other,

we vowed to visit in the astral realm

so every now and then when you still haunt my dreams

i wonder if maybe, just maybe, you just wanted to see me