a book of poems
written by hands now holding  
someone new.
i ponder
whether the stanzas
still wreck havoc with your heart.
i wonder
can my lips can reach you through the useless pages.
ex lover
poetry written with ghosts
can only haunt who caused
the poet to suffer.

-you came back
to give rest to this fatigued relationship
in hope there was a chance to sleep
without the ghosts whispered into your side of the bed
running their fingers along somebody spineless-


i can stretch across the length of the bed now                                                    
and not feel guilt.                                                                  
like rescue has arrived
in the form of  a goodbye ~  

like it was worthwhile                                                              
suffering to better appreciate my own smile.

to be unread.