ghost melancholy

I sit in subdued mourning, grieving for a stranger

who isn’t a stranger. can you grieve

a soul you don’t know? do I have the right?

I search for a descriptor for this

ghost melancholy and find only this:

your smile, playing on grainy footage

in the depths of memory; your voice,

muted as if I’ve only heard it underwater;

your face, a memory I can’t trust.

I sit in hollow mourning, grieving for a stranger

who isn’t a stranger. is the absence of grief

a sin? do I have the right to tearless eyes?

there is no name for this emotionless sorrow.

it sits heavy on my heart like a pearl,

forged from guilt and wanting to forget.

I long to release it, have it plucked

from my body and turned into something beautiful.

can you take it from me,

as you go?