Funny how I pretend
I'm not breaking when
happiness leaves
a trail of chilled sadness
in places, I don't want
anyone to know about.
I'm not longing for someone
When I sleep on the side
of the bed where I won't
see the shadows of the past
And I leave the lights open
to exorcise the ghosts of those
who left without saying
a lukewarm goodbye.
I'm not weeping at random nights
I'm alone in the company
of bottled memories
and a suitcase of regrets.
that I'm not grieving over dead feelings
and wilted flowers
I've pressed ever so gently
in between the lonely pages
of my vintage diary
that once upon a time held
bed of roses to vows
of endless affection
whispered by sweet lips
glazed with ample deceit.
I'm not faking my smiles
and I'm not hurting anymore.
