You used to glare at me all the time. You sneered and skimmed—tried to make me aware of how badly I'm rotting underneath.

But you also helped me breathe, find my pace—make me feel everything because that was what I needed.

Now you couldn't even look at me when I pass by.

It's that look.

Your expression continuously haunts my dreams. A ghost, eerily reminding me of you, seems to creep into my mind as well.

There is no escaping you.

Even when you stop.

Even if you walk out of my life.