It never really stops hurting
through contagious laughter,
filled glasses,
and occupied beds.
It's still there
tugging,
heavy.
Reminding you that he once existed
through strangers smiles,
and unfamiliar but comforting hugs.
They're there,
the memories.
And although you chuckle and say
"Who him?"
Nothing will ever remind yourself
that you’re a liar
quite like those words.
Because he existed,
he made you believe,
then told you none of it mattered.
And you know he's still on this path
leaving casualties behind
whispering to themselves
"Who him?”