When your lover is a ghost

It started as a thirst in the night, sweeping away at my bedsheets. A silent, cold rain on my body as if I was pavement during a storm. How many weights have I lifted to be this sore? I brush my teeth with sand.
I stare at sticky notes pressed into the bathroom mirror by your lips. I’m reading your writing. “With each new day lies a new opportunity”. I’ve read this plenty of sunrises. How many times must I reach for my phone? I’ve become so quiet that I can hear the atoms of air vibrate around me. What is to find in silence? Blank screens, silent static televisions. Who is trying to reach me?

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