ghost


An image of shadows on a white wall, outlining the form of a hand and arm.

last night, the space of you came

it heard me sniffling or softly sobbing

it blinked with curious eyes, despite only

being a shadow.


the shadow sat on the edge of the bed

ruffled my hair wordlessly, then petted it

down, unsure what to do with me.

it couldn’t speak, it didn’t say anything

it was not one for much touching either.


but the space of you knew.

it saw, and it tried

and that’s all we can ask for.

I never expected emotional distance

on top of social distance

and yet here we are

and aren’t.


the space of you,

it tried

and that’s all

we can ask for.



An image of Ellen Huang, a person with long, dark hair tied into a side ponytail, smiling into the camera.

Ellen Huang is an aro/ace writer of fantasy. She reads for Whale Road Review and is published/forthcoming in VIBE, Lumiere Review, Sword & Kettle Press, Tealight Press, Gingerbread House Lit, and more. You should see her semi-spiritual blog where she explores cinema, folklore, and faith: worrydollsandfloatinglights.wordpress.com