Ghost Of The Living Poem by cassidy Lovato

You are not gone,
but you've made yourself a ghost.
Breathing, walking, laughing somewhere—
yet absent from the only place
that mattered.

My children do not know your voice.
One has never seen your face.
Another will forget it soon.
The oldest remembers,
but not the way I wish he could
the memories are bruised at the edges,
and I can't smooth them out.

You choose this silence.
You choose the bottle,
the pulpit,
the mirror that only reflects yourself.
You choose comfort over connection,
pride over presence.

And while you waste these years,
the core memories are being built without you
birthday candles blown out,
bike rides without training wheels,
tiny hands reaching for someone else.
Someone who shows up.

I forgave you once,
but I will not forget.
Not the absence you turned into a habit,
not the dangers I pulled them away from.
I will protect them
from the storms you carry inside you.

I still wish you'd fight your demons.
I still wish you'd rise,
not for me
but for them.
But you won't.

So you will remain
what you've chosen to become
a ghost who could have been
their angel.