Blocks settle inside my mind//
Bookends to the pages of us//
Pressed together but fallen apart//
Every poem a story, a seance to your ghost//
You're not dead but I am to you//
I'm on the other side tapping the glass//
Hopeful that someday a whisper of me//
Might graze across the valleys of your brain//
The memories would be kind, not of pain//
But that's just a fantasy//
And our love was just fiction//
It became stillborn in reality//