An Ever-Present Ghost of the Past

Why?
Please show me why,
Even though I am now blind.

Why do you just sit there and stare,
As these unshed tears,
Stain my face,
While this strange red fog chokes out my vision,
Of you.

How?
Can you,
Can you tell me how,
Even though my hearing is lost,
As is my soul.

How can you laugh at my pain,
That wonderful god-granted laugh,
While this hole,
Thrusted through my chest,
This thing called a heart,
Bleeds until I drown,
Thanks to you.

I sit here,
Scrawling these words,
On that granite slab that is your heart,
For only you to read,
Yet you are the only who doesn't,

Doesn't see my pain,
Doesn't hear my desperate pleas for help,
Doesn't feel my touch,
Doesn't smell my bloodied scent.

Do you follow me-
Haunt me,
for a reason?
Or do you just enjoy,
The tormented look,
Your presence leaves on my face,

For you never seemed to like it before,
my face,
my soul,
anything about me.

Does this ghost,
This ghost of you,
Have the feelings you never did,
Or,
Is it just as impudent as the newer you.

The newer you was-
No,
Is not the same,
The same as the loving, artistic, perso-
Child, boy, gentleman,
There are no words,
Humanly possible of describing,
How perfect you were.

For now I will call you a mirage,
The newer you is not the same,
Not the same as the mirage,
That I fell for.

If a ghost,
An ever-present ghost of the past,
My past,
Our past,
Was,
Has to haunt me,
Why can't it be you?

What do you mean that is you?
No no no,
You misunderstand my very being,
I meant you,
The real you,
The mirage.

But it is a silly wish,
For,
That's all you ever were,
A mirage.

Even now,
That is all you are,
A mirage of this ever-present ghost of our past-
No my future.

Undying and Inevitable,
Your ghost follows me.