Clean; August 31, 2025
My sheets are stained with sweat and regret,
Your heady scent lingers on my pillow.
The sun was woken angry;
He sears your memory into my skin.
Then, suddenly, the bubble pops.
I catch a glimpse of my ghost in the mirror — a doughty smile,
Eyes that have rebirthed a lost soul.
And I can no longer smell your scent,
Or feel your presence on my lips.
You are now a second in time
On a watch I’ve seemed to misplace.
-AKF