Haunted Hearts
How you haunt me with your love–a presence that stains every room,
A ghost that refuses exorcism, settling in the sheets, the silence, the gloom.
Your hands linger like old perfume on a favorite shirt I can’t throw away,
Fingertips trailing shivers that know me better than I know myself–
You are the echo at midnight, the voice I mistake for my own,
A heart that keeps breaking and reforming in the shadows, never quite gone.
You haunt the morning with empty coffee cups,
My afternoons with sudden hunger and the memory of your laugh–
At night, you lie beside me, weightless,
But heavy as regret, lips brushing my neck in that familiar, damning way.
I feel your breath against my skin–sometimes cold, sometimes a fever I welcome,
A lover’s touch that both soothes and wounds, reminding me how little I can resist.
I fear the shape of your want, the hollow in your chest where I once fit–
Still I return, helpless, bound by something older than longing,
A fool chained by love, by terror, by the promise that you will never leave
Because you already did, and now you’re everywhere.
Haunted hearts learn to love their ghosts,
To crave the shudder, the ache, the sudden whisper when the house is quiet.
Even in the light, I carry your shadow inside,
A burden I refuse to set down,
A hunger that feeds on itself,
Never satisfied, never forgiven.
Nights stretch longer each season, and still you remain,
An addiction, a lesson, a history that won’t be rewritten.
In darkness, we lose the path–stumbling over lost apologies,
Mapping old wounds like constellations, praying for a dawn that never comes.
Still your presence steers me,
Pulling me from sleep, from sanity,
Guiding me back to the threshold we built–
Half home, half hell.
Haunted hearts, forever bound,
In love and fear, we’re lost, we’re found.
Your ghost remains, I can’t let go–
A love that only shadows know.
You are the story I keep reading in the dark,
The wound I kiss each night before sleep,
The only haunt that never leaves.