I'm not calling you a ghost, but that's what you are. You can permeate my life without lifting a finger. Then again, you don't have hands to me anymore. It's been too long and your physical presence has grown fuzzy in my mind. The dimples, if they existed, could just be freckles. The dip in your nose might just be my imagination. I can dress you up or down as I please. Memories are like mannequins, andwejust nip and tuck until it seems right. This would be more convenient if I wanted to remember.
Text: The Memory Ghost by Out-on-a-Limb
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