It has been six months exactly
since you turned around and
never looked back and as a
tribute I, unknowingly, deleted
every single trace of you.

Every piece of your features
appeared on the screen before
me, and then vanished in an
instance as if none of those things
happened in the first place.

I'll find photos of myself in a lot
of places I used to go, and every
single one looks as if I was caught
by some secret photographer
hiding behind a camera but never
being able to stand in front of it.

You became a ghost, mimicking
the sentiments you no longer had.

Yet here I am, six months later, a
little stronger whilst a little bitter
for the better. My heart feels whole,
enclosed by some unsettling smoke,
but no longer swallowed by an
unforgiving blaze.

And for the first time in a long time,
I can confess that
I am
fine.

gd