While chasing your ghost,

I became one myself.

Sitting by my window, knitting like a sailor’s wife,

Eyes glued to the horizon with the hope that your ship is the next to dock

But I know you washed upon Calypso’s shore

And can’t remember my name anymore.

I wandered the empty corridors of your subconscious

And saw a thousand closed doors.

I’m still haunted by you,

You injected me with your toxic energy

And fled when I began convulsing on the floor,

Frothing rabidly for the antidote.

I tried moving forward

But felt you pulling my strings—

Forever doomed to being your puppet.