I knew the pathway
Like the back of my hand
It was etched there
Involuntarily, as if
Drawn onto my flesh
In my own blood
(I must not tell lies)
This place is somewhere
Only we know
The true face of, having
Been here long enough
Separately, to come
To terms with
Loathing it and having
Been here long enough
Together, to have pleasant
Memories, which are the only things
I can see before my eyes
As I walk through the pathways
That less than a year ago
Were a part of my life.
But I'm not here,
Not anymore.
Although I spent
Five years here, I can only remember
Our five hours.