It is
Not that
I want
You back
But more
That
I want you
Never to
Have gone.
You handed
Me a shovel
And we dug
Ourselves into
A grave.
Hands
Caked
In mud,
I tried to
Dig us
Back out
While
You laid down
And let
Us die.
Now we live
In a ghost town.
I drift through
Streets
Tainted with
Our memories,
Each landmark
Becomes
A tombstone
Presented with
Yellow roses.
I am terrified
Of my safest
Spaces
As your
Phantom
Lingers
Within the walls.
I want to
Reach out
But all we
Had is left
To decay.
A smokescreen
Of possibilities
Poison
My daydreams.
“What if?”
Lingers
Unanswered
In my head.
I must learn
To live
In pieces,
Knowing
That what
We were is
Dead.