Soft Close

We don’t talk anymore; I

Pretend it’s mutual but

It was you who decided.

Perhaps I wasn’t good for

You, though I always tried to

Be good to you. For the best,

I tell myself, while the you

Shaped hole in me aches, empty

Tangled Webs

What am I To you?
A secret smile?
A guilty pleasure?
Or nagging burden?
The weight of your sins
Prolonging your grief

What am I to me?
An object of pride?
Or subject of scorn?
The butt of a joke?
What I try and hide
But cannot escape

What are you to me?
A moment’s daydream?
A light in the dark?
Possible future?
Or delusion to
Ease longing’s dull sting