Mist

She sleeps in your bed still

A fragment of half-remembered dreams

Feeling with no substance

Her words linger, cloying

A perfume opening sweet

With high notes of memory

Taking leave in a finish

Of bitter let down

She stalks my phrases

Haunting nuance
Laying upon my meaning

With the subtle
Doppelganger smirk of

"I came first"

I want to peel her
from my skin, my words
From the shape of my desires

Pull her distortion
From my anger
And claim what is mine

Without the need to defend

Against what was hers

She will fade

Mist dissipates in the heat

of the morning sun

I watch, wait

For your eyes to stop

Tracing the imprint of loss

For your ears to finally stop

Ringing with the resonance of remembrance

Sora