The last scraps of us get discarded from my aching head,
And all the thoughts that once mattered evict themselves.
I was holding onto hope like some mythical thread,
But it is time to find more wonder in somebody else.
The throbbing anger washed away the moment I let you lose.
Now I know your name, but I barely know the man.
Not sure if you are hurting or drafting us a new truce,
Not sure if I will waste a moment sipping on your plans.
The first snow covers up the muddy footprints you left,
And soon enough the tale of you will erase itself.
One more year and I will no longer mourn this like a death.
Your memory will be a dusty statue on a shelf.
-Jackie
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 