while chasing your ghost, i became one myself—
translucent as morning fog,
the space between breaths,
or like the clatter of a dead-end street after midnight.
you were always good at hollowing things out:
rooms, promises, the space behind my ribs.
now i practice your art in reverse,
carving myself thin enough to follow.
i grew into the absence you planted,
let it fester, untamed, in the darknes...
