Ghosts

This was another one of stories that came to me one morning, and just needed to be written

Ghosts

They walk beside us through every step of our lives
The lost, the abandoned,
The memories we try to expunge from our lives
They are the ones who have touched our hearts the deepest
That, despite our denials, are the ones we still carry close

Their memories bubble to the surface at the most random times
Realisation of who we're thinking about is followed by snippets,
Fragments of conversations we've had, should have had, never did have
In the secret parts of our being, the places we never let others,
There is the ache of loss, a dull emptiness that can never be refilled.

And yet walking with us is a emptiness-shaped ghost,
Constantly watching over us,
Just as they always used to in better times.