traces of you
are left in my poems
like a sneaky ghost
that quietly haunts me

like coffee stains
on a white tablecloth;
like a desire path
that leads to a cliff

i could delete my poems,
throw away the rags
and jump off a cliff

but i can never delete you
or the love i had for you

so, long live in my poems
amongst these empty halls
cheers for the good times
i hope i won't remember them at all

enjoy being a ghost
in the name of the love
that once was