\"Wasn\'t even my boyfriend,
we just worked together.\"
tears stain your eyes,
as you wash the makeup off your face.
You get up and get dressed,
and the image vanishes.
I walk to work, and
in the deep cold,
thinking about things a man knows,
the ghost of you standing there,
on the street corner.
With an evil smirk.
Its lonely in the deepness of night,
And I turn,
and there’s no longer a phantom.
The impression of you
is gone. All that remains,
is the memory of a smell.
Some people live in the past,
With thoughts running through their head.
Memories of memories,
rushing passed.
And I simply,
let things go.