Subtly he creeps in

A memory
The turn of his head
The tilt of his smile

I go from wondering
To dreaming about his scent
Lost in thoughts of him

A faded awareness
An old mental photograph
Forever ingrained

He’s left his marks
On my mind, over my body
His essence has altered mine

If I could unravel him…
But disconnecting never is easy
And my heart refuses to forget


  1. If the purpose of poetry is to make one feel what the poet is feeling, you are a damn good poet. This feeling hits me now and again, you captured it perfectly. Beautiful, thank you.

I like it when you talk to me

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