I feel it in my bones. In my hips. In the base of my skull. The collapsing of my chest every so often when my heart sinks from the weight of all the emotions it could be feeling. It happens late at night. It happens at odd hours. Like when I notice my writing has changed, or when I see that some of my clothes still have your smell on them, or when I get goosebumps on my arms because a wind passes by me and for a second I think that it's you, and when I turn around, I'm still alone. Except for your ghost.
When I wake up, I'm staring at a ghost that's forgotten to fly away. It has no voice, but it follows me everywhere I go.