behind gazes of admiration,
voices remind you of what’s absent.

it buzzes like a song you knew years ago that you can’t piece the lyrics to.

it’ll hurt just enough to make you
think of her.

you dull a wound anything but healed with a smirk and touch in my direction.

it’s almost enough.

you’ll graze your hand against mine.

it’ll sting just enough to make me believe.

you’ll revisit the ghost in your heart
for the second time tonight,
and i’ll tend to the one in the mirror.

she’s tired of hearing your swan song
about a ghost anything but dead.

it’s singing:

“i wish you were special”