Thinking about it feels like watching an episode.
Your shoes, sit by the doorway.
Slammed shut, the only way through is in.
Spaced out at the windowpane,
seeing your face in the textures of the wall.
I thought about what could have been.
I think about everything that's happened.
Haunted by the time we spent.
My eyes, my face, the words that melted at your fingertips.
It's permanent.
I'll keep moving.
You'll be stuck.
Scrubbing the stains until scars spell out my name.