Ghost of Mine

He’s so beautiful when he sleeps. Half of his face is always hidden in the pillow, while the other half is covered with his long, dark, murky hair. Sometimes his nose is poking out.

It’s like he hides behind that hair. It makes him mysterious – secretive.

He’s my enigma – my riddle to figure out. My biggest obstacle being that I can’t touch him. I can’t reach him. I can feel him and he can feel me slightly, but I can't touch him.

My only source of communication is my diary – a book filled with words and letters and secrets that I’ve written almost 170 years ago.

He grunts and rubs his nose through his veil of hair. When he pulls his hand away, his nose appears.

I can’t help it when I lean down and place a chaste kiss on the tip.

He sighs.

My lips stay warm for a while, yet when I reach up and touch them, they’re cold as ice – just like they’ve been for much more than a century.

Many people have lived here – come and gone. Some have stayed here for a week, some for an entire lifetime.

Me? I’ve been here my entire life – and my entire death.

I was born here. I grew up here. I got married here. I got divorced here. I lived here. I died here. And now I’m dead here – roaming each and every room like I did when I was alive.

This new man has lived here for a month. He’s lasted longer than some, but still has a long way to go to beat the record.

Mine.

Even though this new man is just another resident in some ways, he’s the only resident I’ve ever wanted to stay with me.

When he first got here, he was just another pretty face. I fall for almost everybody who moves in here. I did so as well when I was alive. I just wanted to be close to someone – someone to hold and love and be loved by. I never got that when I was alive. Even in my death, I’ve yet to be loved.

Yet this man, he stole my heart. His gloomy appearance intrigued me from the start, and once I got to see the sweet, unique person that hid underneath, I was lost.

He draws, as I’ve mentioned. His drawings are amongst the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. Each one of them tells a story of pain and suffering, yet always with a silver lining.

I never saw that light. I died in darkness. I never had that shining light waiting for me. Maybe that’s why I’m still here. Maybe I need to find my silver lining – the light of my death – since my life was nothing to cheer over.

He turns in his sleep. His limbs are thrashing around as he rolls over and turns his back to me.

I gradually look down – lowering my head.

I should let him get his rest.