It was half a lifetime ago we held each other. Between then and now there have been so many others.
You should be inconsequential it would seem, but you still haunt me in my dreams.
Did I mark you like you marked me?
Is this affliction of mine a singular fantasy?
Also what sort of mark did I leave? Last heard the rumor you hated me.
Yet I remember you so well, your face hair smell.
Our end was messy and I a mess, it being short was probably best.
If it had been allowed to last I wouldn’t be able to delude my past.
If marked you are, it could have been worse: restlessness is my curse.
But now I’m haunted in my dreams, blurry face through windows beam.
Now in the day walking the street in every window I peak.
A chance meeting? No. Too many miles separate. But ah me of so little faith in fate.
No. It can’t. Beds have been made. Maybe in another life but not some far off day.