I pretend you are dead to get away from your memory.
Your beauty has burned its image into my brain.
Your power and your presence has marked me.
I obsess over them until I am insane.
I take trips and change jobs to get away from you.
I cant even listen to the music I love.
You intertwined yourself with the words.
It no longer sounds like what I heard.
It’s been a long time now.
Your beauty is no longer so disarming.
I am a victim of a terrible theft.
Your memory more harming,
than your words were to me as you left.
I work to forget you lied.
Your motives thrived on my guilt driven honesty.
I found out my weakness was your weapon. I died.
I didn’t know what else to be.
You have made yourself a non event.
I look and cannot find you.
You could care less where I went.
I leave messages where I know to,
they go unreturned, as if unsent.
It’s sad but I pretend you are dead
to get away from your memory.
In those rare moments when,
I’m not wishing that I was.