Another name on the list.
One more heart amiss.
Scathingly, to false sorrow you admit,
for parting only brings new tomorrows.
I can fathom not what you think.
Is your mind the master of its will?
Deeply besotted in your ways,
saturation leaves me disheartened.
Reveled in the idea of you,
somewhere deeply imprinted inside,
a scar that you may’nt identify;
The only proof that you were here.
Memories can be doctored,
all evidences tampered,
but this fail-safe method,
the fit of your words to my own,
Assails any shallow sense of victory.