Ghost Limb

It’s funny, isn't it?
How absence can weigh more than presence ever did.
Like a ghost limb, I still reach for you,
knowing my hand will grasp only air.

It’s been… how long now?
Too many sunrises bleeding into sunsets,
without your laughter to color them.
Each day a chipped ceramic mug,
functional, but forever flawed.

Remember that diner, downtown?
Booths worn smooth by countless stories,
coffee thick as mud, and your eyes,
sparkling like fool’s gold in the dim light.
We carved our initials into the tabletop,
proof of a love we thought would never rust.

Now, I go there alone sometimes,
just to sit in that booth,
run my fingers over the faded letters,
and pretend you’re still across from me,
arguing about politics and bad poetry.

The waitress, bless her heart,
knows my order by now.
She brings the coffee, never says a word,
just a knowing glance, a silent sympathy.
Maybe she understands,
this ache of a missing piece.

They say time heals all wounds.
A lie whispered by well-meaning strangers.
Time just dulls the edges, maybe,
but the scar remains, a constant reminder.
Like a phantom pain, it flares up unexpectedly,
triggered by a song on the radio,
a familiar scent in the air,
a glimpse of someone who walks like you.

I carry you with me, you see,
not as a burden, but as a part of myself.
A ghost limb, forever reaching,
forever missing,
forever loved.

Maybe, someday, the phantom pain will fade,
replaced by a gentle memory,
a warmth instead of a sting.
But until then,
I’ll keep reaching,
keep remembering,
keep loving,
the ghost of you that lives within me.

The world keeps spinning, indifferent to my grief,
but I’m not indifferent.
I hold onto every memory, every shared glance,
every whispered word.
They are my treasures now,
more precious than gold,
because they are all I have left of you.

And sometimes, in the quiet of the night,
when the world is still and silent,
I swear I can feel your hand in mine,
a gentle pressure, a fleeting warmth,
telling me I’m not alone.
Even in this vast emptiness,
you are still here.
A ghost limb,
but still a part of me.