With a statement thrown away…
Tossed and expected to sit.
And it can not rid itself from memory.
It is etched.
Outlined in a residue that has become marred.
To be imprisoned with imperfections,
And flaws picked and prickled
By a lockdown behind cold steel bars.
Would greet with more warmth…
Are my thoughts of you.
You reek.
That’s the feeling I met,
When I read your goodbye.
And now you are trying to pry me away,
From a happiness earned?
Healed and free of scars?
Everyday I pray to remove your addicting scent.
Thinking there is something left from you,
That I yearn?
Is that what you believe I do?
That you have some secret powers,
I can not see through.
You smothered my love with indecency.
And you expect me to forget those choking fumes?
You must have assumed a residue of you was left,
I crave.
None that sits,
That I did not let entangle me.
I’ve meditated you right out of my life.
And ‘that’ has been most effective.