the receptionist at the front desk of my temporal lobe welcomed you everyday
she handed you the visitors log and watched you sign it
"welcome back"
scanning across
your name was signed everyday
never at intervals more than an hour apart  
the closer i got to the bottom of the log
i noticed you started missing days
weeks
months
i guess you just got busy during visiting hours,
the card reader at my cerebral cortex  
says you forgot to punch in your card before my dreams took over.

i did not bother to look for you anymore
and thats when i felt my bones soften
i didn't realize how hard ive become
until i felt the shaft of my bone fill itself with cotton
i felt my spine extend releasing the secrets you held in between
i dont carry the weight of your world anymore

in the grey and white matter where thoughts are birthed and memories are cradled
your voice no longer lives
the curl of your lips when you smile, your eyes and the palms of your hand have been evicted
you've packed and moved to a home within another
blue neon lights now illuminate the 'no vacancy' sign that hangs where your favorite welcome mat used to lay
i hope you've enjoyed your stay.