nocebo

These moments haunt,
the ghosts of failures
float above and whisper
pernicious.

Bitter pills,
these words ambiguous
become superstition unshared.
A prayer to no one,
sans rosary,
repeated ad infinitum.

Each conversation dissected;
appraised, every kiss.
And you get lost in this:
are they are innocuous?
Nocebos made sinister by self?

A look, a tone, a smile inscrutable:
signs ignored or imagined?
Self perpetuating paranoiac myth
or innate inevitable mistake?
Was it always so
or did you make him go?

Correlation or causation
you wonder sans cessation
and, either way, he's gone -
a new ghost in your retinue
susurrating.