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"My oldest friend ghosts me (again)" by Hadley Dion



How does being absent

only make your presence more

imposing? I remind myself of your boyish

frame, the way your shoulder is level

with mine. But somehow

you’ve become a skyscraper. A shadow living

in the periphery of my vision.


I try to vanish my feelings

of delusion, re-read a birthday message to

serve as a reminder, I didn’t hallucinate

our tender bond.


A seminal phantom in life, you brought me first experiences

of grief. In cursed

adolescence, I sat in the pew and watched you

falter at your mother’s funeral. I cherished you then

as I cherished you at twenty-three.


Stomach sick, unrequited ache.


Even when we materialized romance from

lifelong friendship, spent weekends together,

loneliness loomed. You kept me

at restless perimeter, believing

I couldn’t reach you

because I was unworthy, framed you on a lifelong

pedestal as too cool, too smart to see me. But now

I know your distance is a worn identity, one you owe more

loyalty to than you could offer me.


I’ve transformed since your final text, charmed

my skin with more rebel ornaments. Got a haircut

and a stable partner that doesn’t drift or vanish

in a capricious shroud. Stopped seeking

answers, I even gift understanding

to the scar of you.


Yet, there are tantrums of journal pages screaming

your name. Your imp face

greets me in meditations, haunts me in dreams.

Of course it does. I fell in love with an untouchable

apparition. Forced myself to swallow a lifetime

of affections, now they overflow

in ink. I greet your absence with these words, compose lines where we don’t

break. In secrecy, and humiliation, I try

to conjure your response.

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