I smoke cigarette after cigarette, hoping the poison will kill your ghost which has made its home within my chest. I have made a habit of holding my breath, it seems to keep the ghost still. But eventually I must breathe again and when I do it is released, sneaking out with my exhale. No matter what I do your ghost sits among my ribs, etching your name into my bone, or gripping tight my heart. It lives inside of me now and I fear it will never leave, that it will fade into my skin and become part of me forever.
