Ghosts Of You

“mm… you left marks… you left shadows…

you think I forgot? … no…

I carry the echoes… every one of you…”

(“hide… hush… breathe slow…”)

Your names taste bitter on the back of my tongue,

every memory hits like a bell you rung.

You taught me fear before you taught me love,

taught me pain before I knew enough.

(“liar… liar…”)

I see flashes — doors slammed, voices raised,

your rage dripping through the edges of my days.

I learned to shrink, to fold, to bend,

survival became my closest friend.

(“mm… don’t break… stay small…”)

I held my breath when you’d walk in,

counted the seconds till the next sin.

Every lie was a loop I’d replay,

every bruise a story you made me say.

(“shh… don’t cry… don’t move…”)

I shouldn’t be this good at being traumatic,

scars taught me how to move automatic.

You built a battlefield inside my bones,

left me wandering through shattered tones.

I shouldn’t know survival like a script I recite,

but your ghosts keep haunting every night.

(“ghosts… ghosts… stay away…”)

You carved your storms deep under my skin,

every promise poisoned from within.

I hear your footsteps in the quiet heat,

the old cold fear still skips a beat.

(“don’t flinch… don’t scream…”)

I remember mirrors I couldn’t look at,

truths I swallowed just to stay intact.

You taught me shadows more than light,

left me living half in day, half in night.

(“broken… but breathing…”)

I tried to speak but you shut me out,

raised your voice just to drown my doubt.

Every goodbye cut deeper than the last,

your ghost is the future dressed like the past.

(“you’ll never leave… mm…”)

I shouldn’t be this good at being traumatic,

your love was cruel, cold, automatic.

You shaped the darkness, made it home,

turned my heart into a warzone.

I disappear, but you chase me through,

I fade but always drag a ghost of you.

(“fade… fade… don’t look back…”)

I walk the rooms where I used to hide,

hear echoes of the girl who almost died.

But I’m not yours — not anymore,

you’re a whisper rotting behind a locked door.

(“let me go… let me go…”)

My memories burn but they don’t own me,

your shadow thins, it can’t control me.

I rise from everything you made untrue,

a nightmare walking away from you.

(“gone… gone… gone…”)

I shouldn’t be this good at being traumatic,

but I turned survival into something cinematic.

You left wreckage — I learned to rebuild,

I’m done with you, my lungs refilled.

Your ghosts may whisper, but I break through,

I vanish… vanish…

and finally lose the ghosts of you.

(“fade… disappear… mm… mm… hush…")