Those Days

I can’t picture

your skin,

not anymore,

not in sickness

nor in health;

I am alone

in well spent wealth.

I can’t imagine 

your hands,

laced through another’s

tangled hair,

pushing into mine,

a ghost within the air.

I can’t forget

those words,

that dreaded curse

that turned my insides out

and my body, left to hang.

What a twisted, twisted man.

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