I've done my fair share of leaving, I'd say,
Though they left before I did, off on their way.
There's only so long you can stay in an empty
room, picking scabs of walls and analysing the
symbolism of smudges and smears and history.

When I'm stalking your facebook from another
account (on the sly, yeah)I wonder if you ever
think of mine. Or that text that might be from
her and I'll never know (;deleted from my contacts).
Or what might have been recognition in the nod
of his head. Association leaves stains and the tattoo
of regret scars my my skin, my mind.

Their names are graffitied
on the rubble of my memories.