by Wayne Wysocki

I live in a place called Oblivion,
Its location matters not;
You'll not recall or think at all
Of this forgotten spot.

But this is where you left me
When you and I were done,
And here I dwell, an empty shell,
While are you having fun.

I know your frequent fancies
Should have clued me from the start
How easily your love for me
Would vanish from your heart.