ghost scream their regrets at me.
they whisper how they died
and tell me of their broken hearts
and deathly tears.
they make suffering a competition
they think their broken hearts make them better than me.
they only see you if you are a broken doll,
if the hurt an regrets pours down your chin like blood.
that's why i'm invisible to them.
but if i told them
about her smile
and her throat
and the blood in a halo
around her head
then maybe they wouldn't see me as inferior.