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 

still beautiful

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


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