The thing about her is
that I don't think about her anymore .

That doesn't mean the aches and pains weren't real . . . they were .

Sometimes in the darkest
endeavors of my loneliness
I drift off into the eternity of my doubts staring at my "what ifs".

Sometimes I become addicted to the silence , becoming numb to my existence .

But life is persistent , showers your darkness in strobic half truths and lies
. . . yes lies so blatant it stirs the hibernating thoughts against your will .

I look down on the scars of life and gently rub them with my fingers but the pain is gone now .

After all there's no one there anymore .