It was on November,
when you stopped writing me poems,
giving me notes
and singing me songs.
It was on November,
when your hugs
felt a bit lighter.
When before,
They used to be so much tighter.
It was on that month
when the fall began.
When the ghosts of the past,
came hunting us back
In the form of someone.
And I watched as you fell,
on the graves
of an old love.
Leaving me in pieces.
I buried you in peace,
Not a single tear I shed.
Because you said,
it would be a shame
to cry for a man so lame.
So I never did,
I never cried.
Now, the ghosts no longer comes back.
And the only ones that never cease
on hunting me,
Were our memories.
- Juju
