like a band aid. had her stuff ready. she grabbed it and bailed. hardly uncomfortable at all.
first time I saw her since she left
same eyes that have haunted dreams. I couldn’t maintain contact with them
I think that is understandable
clinical detachment is key
six years is a long time as things go. a lot of whispers and secrets. words given and received. giggles and tears shared.
Like every thing it ends. no new story here. same old same old
we move on and leave ghosts where we used to reside together
I have left a series of ghost towns throughout my career. little hints at better times. smiles from different eras. they drift through now and then. bitter sweet reminders of almost
almost love. almost home. almost
it is the getting close that sucks
knowing you were on the cusp of something more but some malevolent force chose to take it away
If the almosts are ghosts I am a poltergeist
my heart was built on an ancient Indian burial ground
I get that native American is the correct term but that did not have the dramatic flair necessary. fuck off.
ruined that little melancholy flow
hope your day is better than this feeling of…
if you were looking at a heart machine or oscilloscope it would be a perfect flat line. no ups or downs. just straight into the night.
the worst feeling. at least highs and lows take you somewhere. this just leaves you sad but not sad enough to react. like a soft gray blanket that is a touch too heavy. a bit too warm for the weather. but you leave it on because the room feels chilly
the room feels chilly
maybe a little emptier in some odd way. like a ghost vacated the premises