Homesick for a Ghost* I'm homesick for something that never was— a dream I swore was real. I trace the echoes of the voices, yet silence is all I feel. The sun rises, the sun fades, and still, you've carved yourself in me— a ghost I never truly held, yet chained, I can't set free. What is it for? What is it worth? To chase the air, to beg the past? You are not here. You never were. Still, I feel you slipping, thread by thread, like sand dissolving in the sea. Yet you're inside my bones— no force can take you out of me. I know I should let go. But tell me... how do you let go of something that still lives inside you?