I sit on my bed,
Gaze soft and unfocused.
Wrapped in the remnants of a shirt you left behind.
Or maybe I stole it.
An air conditioned breeze sends a chill through over-sized armholes that expose the flesh of my *******.
It wakes me from my hazy state.
Glancing up, for a moment I see you in this shirt...
But it’s my own reflection
in the mirror directly opposite my bed.
Disappointment washes over me and I let my gaze slide to the window.
Up, I see the summer moon
as the ghost of you fades from the forefront of my mind,
to its rightful home in my subconscious.
You and I are simply not to be.
Fated in another life,
But now our lives are intertwined and intimately connected to others.
This dream is not mine,
nor is it yours, to have.
It is time.
To bury a memory,
I watch, from the edge of our six foot trench,
As my own hands throw the first earth on an unmarked grave.
‘Twas but a dream