The Phantom

The Phantom
By Victoria Teele

My grandma asked about you in our conversation last night,
I didn't know what to tell her as I began to cry again.
I thought that I had made some progress in getting over you,
But I still feel you inside; you're like a phantom limb.
A part of my body has been severed and carelessly discarded,
I can feel it where it's supposed to be, yet it is no longer there.
Somehow, its absence creates such a destructive feeling,
Some days are better than others; some days, I'm still acutely aware.
I swear that when I wake up in the mornings, I'm forced to relive it all again,
Those nerve endings are completely burned now; yet somehow they're still raw and exposed.
My heart continues to break with the rising of the morning sun,
My mind still lives in that phantom space, while my heart, it already knows.
I know that one day I'll come to terms with the knowledge of losing you,
Right now, I can't see that far down such an imaginary line.
One day, I'll wake up and no longer reach for your touch,
One day, I'll fall asleep and you'll no longer be haunting every crevice of my mind.
But right now, this blunt sever that you have brutally done,
Its force has reached down, entangling the deepest parts of me.
This phantom that you have grown and morphed into,
He's left me sitting here dying while I'm being forced into my new reality.