It's unfair to you that I miss him.
It's unfair to me that I can't tell you
That I miss him.
I know you'd listen.
I know you'd let me cry.
You would nod and stroke my arm.
You might even offer some
Kind and understanding words
Because you're wonderful that way.

But no one is always white inside.
Everyone is different shades of gray.
You would never
Tell me, but you would
Feel resentment
And overshadowed by the
Memory of a ghost.
Which would be unfair to you.
So I keep silent.