Throughout my day, you are nothing.
Not a thought, not a memory.
Stretched too thin, clawing at calmness in the face of calamity.
You are between the scratches; the wounds.
The sizzle of an egg on the stove – reparation.
The toe tapping gently to sounds of an era in which you belong.
The slip of sultry whiskey, fire within me.
The whiff of tainted lungs, harsh habits and painted skies.
You live your life as an afterthought.
Content in passing, floating through lives in tormented search of belonging.
Scorching others in your path, branding them with memories.
For you too have kissed the sun and been plunged into darkness.
A gentle quiet, love unbound,
Before whispered betrayal reached her lips.
And you too were scarred.