*brought to you via today’s Daily Post Prompt*
My phone rings, and it is him.
The ghost in the machine.
His voice floats over the distance, telling me things I’ve longed to hear, waited years for, hoped incessantly to come true.
But words are wind.
Blown away in a breath, dispersed into the ether from whence they came, worth no more than the air it took to speak them.
Promises broken, dreams scattered like Legos on the floor, causing pain when encountered, alone and stumbling through the dark.
Some days, I wish I could exorcise this spirit, banish him from my life, so I could move forward & seek love elsewhere…
Other days, I cling to the time spent, holding tightly to the feelings engendered by this disembodied voice, this dislocated ghost who dwells inside my phone, my computer, my head.
How do you dislodge such a deeply entrenched resident?
Cautery?
I’ve reopened the wound more than once, staunched the bleeding, laid fire to the injury, in the hopes of sealing the breach, but it does no good.
Time heals all wounds, they say…
But how much time am I supposed to grant this spirit, this ghost, before I cry “ENOUGH!!” ?
3 years…
And counting…
Brea's Air 