The Phantom of Me

Echoes of his presence call to me.
I look to see to him, the memory of his being.
Did he photograph my soul?
I need a copy please.

He vanished; I disappeared.
Flawed flesh haunts my armor.
Hollow from the inside out.
Make the shell disappear, so I can find my core.

I recall being a survivor.
I’m a survivor who didn’t make it.
Even my cadaver deteriorated.
Who is inside?

I want the “me” whom survived losing him.
I haven’t met me yet.
Have you seen her?
I can’t even find her in mirrors.

My reflections are null and void.
They lack authenticity.
I’m an iridescent spirit.
So why is the mirror black?

The Phantom of Me

CynthiaCat

Manchester, United States

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