Ghosted
Her demeanor
Is a vestige of a singular life
Of loneliness
Disguised as arrogance.
Her sense of humor
And operatic voice are gone.
The bounce in her step,
The flowing blonde hair,
And the sparkle in her blue eyes, gone.
The signs were all there —
The influence of the planets and stars,
Negative thoughts permeating
Her days and nights,
And not a soul in sight.
With a slash of her spiked tongue,
She removed everyone from her life
Until all that was left was a black hole,
Her comfort zone.
She has fears of rejection,
So she strikes the first blow
And the second,
Leaving open mouths
And questioning minds in her wake.
In the aftermath of one stormy weekend,
My flesh hung loosely from her spikes.
As days and weeks passed,
The flesh began to retrace its steps
To form the idea I had of myself
Before she shredded my sense of worth.
And now, we have ghosted each other
Into a place where memories of good times
Have faded in the mist of a toxic fragrance.
