I don't hear you.

I can't see you.

You're a ghost of a fictitious past.

I gaze at the outline and wonder where that time went

why words were said

were the actions dead.

Why go back when back was wrong?

Don't get along, little doggie.

pitterpat. pitterpat. pitter. pity.

Is this hurt forbidden-

knowing, deep in your mind, the truth is perpetually hidden?

It's all messed up.

and I'm away...