It's quiet in the afternoons now
The stifled laughter from the other side of the wall
Has died down as the morning shift
Worn from the day,
Has resorted to finalising any lingering task,
Or, more likely, staring blankly at a computer screen counting away life
Before joining the funnel out the revolving door.
This was the time when if things weren't busy
(And face it, things never are THAT busy)
I would walk across the hall to have a quick conversation
Usually about nothing in particular
As we both pretended to not know the pretense
And little jokes took on life
To pass the time before 5:15.
But now the hallway is untraveled
The empty desk tomb
Where before secret laughter was born
Only serves as a lingering reminder,
A jagged edge fang
Embedding deep into my mind
Tearing out memories with intentioned pain
Each time I cast my gaze
And see the ghost of you.