The cold fingers of your memories cling to the back of my neck, to the back of my mind the same way the tears grab at my eyes. The scent of you burns my nose, the same way the images of you laying next to me floods my dreams. 

The ghost of you- and everything we meant- is in the grave now. 

And nothing is the same now. And nothing will ever be the way it was before within my mind. 

Because it’s the witching hour and the haunting has just begun. 

The whisper of your lips- and the way they moved with mine. The warmth of your skin under the covers and the intoxicating touch you wielded to pull me under. And how when we held hands in that one specific way it felt like the world wasn’t crashing after all. 

But, nothing is perfect. 

And nothing really lasts forever. 

And I knew that. 

And I chose to love you. 

And as you haunt me- from beyond the grave. 

I wish I could stop.