Ghosts of Memories

These streets are haunted 

by ghosts 

of happy memories and 

shared smiles, 

turned bitter and black 

by the waves of hatred, 

anger  

and heartbreak. 

Insignificant places

suddenly have meaning.

She can't hide from them, 

the ghosts that grasp her heart 

and squeezes tightly 

until all she can feel 

is an emptiness, 

a dry numbness. 

She welcomes it.

She tells herself it's better than the pain.

She can't feel it 

when her heart is gone, 

stolen away by the waifs; 

she feels full, 

but she is only full of dark anger 

and bitterness.

Indeed she is empty, 

a mere shell of herself. 

All she wants to do is sink into the darkness 

and forget him.

I'm still like this sometimes, even though I keep on thinking I'm finally over him. Random things and places trigger memories, which just make me even sadder. Sometimes when you're heartbroken, you just need to be given time to sulk and be angry before you can heal.