Ailments become fragments of my imagination; I am encumbered by nothing. Hands in hand with a ghost of your former self, someone I once held away from the torments of situation; no longer am I strong enough- another voice has taken over, controlling, binding, leaving the person I am- fucking helpless, awaiting its next consensus. A face that is not there taunts me, breathing the same air that she held in her lungs, breaking, for it all seems so familiar. I have been lost and faded into this place, waking only to find it still surrounds me, blotting out the pain but with it, the comfort. For I was a being existing but absent of life, selective thoughts showing only bliss. Sifting through tarnished images of a past you were a part of, mind blanketed by memories- the ghost of your former self, someone I once held and time stood still. Time stood still, at least to us. At least to us.