I’m lying on my side, in bed,
thinking of you.
Spare a thought for me…
But I know you aren’t.

Beat the same tattoo on my skin,
with your invisible caresses, touches;
I’ll never know the patterns and marks are there,
until my fingers start tracing gouges and craters…
I’ll get to think of you every time I touch it,
only making it deeper when you don’t think back to me.
Don’t think about me.
Like I do for you.

I will have my one-sided love affair with your ghost.
Because you left it small and afraid,
in my care,
when you were with me.
As soon as your eyes began to know me.
As soon as your lips got their first prize of many.
It grew to such a true second you.

Because though I may still spare such
thousands of thoughts for you,
I know you removed yourself from thinking about me.
So how about I write this up, and
you can
think of me
now.