Clean

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