Analysis of Girl Who Talks to Ghost

Girl Who Talks to Ghost?

runrunrunrunrun
knees bleeding poppies
asphalt drinks the blood like it is starving
but I keep going —
stopping is dying
the rain knows my name
hisses down my neck —
girl who runs,
girl who breaks,
girl who talks to ghosts
neon signs blink like pulse points in the dark
flickering —
come home come home come home
but I don’t know where home is
only where it isn’t
my mother’s voice —
half-fluff cloud, half-thunder
saying don’t trust love,
it eats nice girls like you
a hand once brushed my hair back
kissed my neck
but the hand belonged to someone who left
fasterfasterfaster
feet slap earth like a heartbeat
begging to be heard
love is out here somewhere
glowing soft and gold
beneath the wreckage
I think I see him —
or them —
or no one —
I see someone
blurred, open hands,
heart trying to break their ribs
every time I get close
the street splits wide
swallows them whole
alone again
not again
runrunrunrunrun
shadows stretch legs to trip me
some wear my father’s face
jaw clenched like a locked door
some wear the faces of boys I kissed to forget the ones who hurt me —
but I can still taste the hurt
some wear his face —
that maybe-love, that almost-savior
but his mouth is full of something raw and still he won’t speak
the rain begs me to stop
but now it whispers in my mother’s voice
tells me to lie down in the mud and stay there
says love is a story they told you
to make you soft enough to break
but the storm inside me howls louder
bone-hum shaking through my ribs
lungs filling with broken glass and prayers I don’t believe
I want love like a wound wants a knife
like hunger wants rot
like drowning wants air —
just to feel it tear through me
even if love is teeth that bite
hands that crush mine
even if love shatters me into splinters
the way it always has
I still want it
and then—
a kitchen
morning light spilling soft as honey
hands covered in flour
a laugh, low and warm
a light that doesn’t burn my eyes
a soft kiss good morning
someone saying stay
like they mean it
a hand on my back
steady
not pushing, not pulling
just there —
holding, not demanding
someone who sees all the wreckage inside me —
shattered lockets,
rusted compass,
scars etched on my heart —
and doesn’t flinch
but also —
love is a trap door
love is a sharp edge
love is a wolf in lambs wool
love is not real
so I runrunrunrunrun
toward the myth, the dream, the maybe
ribs splintering into bird bones
lungs filling with stormwater and hope
and if I get there
if arms open wide and pull me in —
will they hold me or break me
will they stay or vanish
will they call me beautiful or too much
what if love is real —
the softest place I’ve ever landed
what if love is the final fall
the only one that doesn’t hurt at all
and if no one’s there —
if it’s only me and the rain
and the ghosts in my head —
at least I ran toward something
at least I believed for a minute
at least I wasn’t afraid to want
wasn’t afraid to hope
but what if
what if
what if
this time —
Someone catches me.
holds me—
so steady, so sure—
until even the storm forgets my name