“The people you love become ghosts inside of you and like this you keep them alive.”
But if you’re the harbour of a thousand wisps of soul, who is going to keep them from leaking out of the holes in your heart? (And your rag-tag of a sweater on those cold winter mornings.)
Because you’re ghosted and closed. You’ll never let them out, those ghosts. And in very much the same way, with ferocity and love that could kill, you’ll never let anyone alive in.
Your love is for the dead.
Such a pity for the living.
p.s Check out Robert Montgomery’s installment, it’s wonderful and inspired this little bit.