i loved him.

still under the surface. the shape pressed against the skin of my eyelids.

not a longing. not a missing. not a sadness.

just...a 'not gone yet'

K. called it 'ghosts'. but it's different than ghosts. it's not quite a haunting. and it's not quite like an unexpelled splinter. and it's not quite like a tumor. it's sometimes like the itching missing limb. but mostly. it's just like truth. and the appendix that hasn't lost it's use yet. it still has its use. it still belongs inside somewhere. even though it's not doing much anymore.

and none of that is right either.

it's just process. it's love.

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