Your presence is hanging on a nail
stabbed into the walls of my soul.
Every day my heartbeats move
the red square to a new number.
You haunt me through calendars.
I’ve removed our dates
from my important events
but somewhere in my mind
a little reminder stayed.
In the heat of the summer it burns
In the winter the frost touches my heart
I see those numbers and spend
the rest of the day walking around
burdened with the feeling that I forgot something.
You can get your copy of my first novel on Amazon: Little Rebellion
Poetry Books: Identity Crisis, Rehab
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