we go to see

this woman

I had something with once

felt things for I think

& she leans in

only a peck on the cheek

on the painted face

I’m searching for clues

now

where once

I presume

I felt passion

& she talks of how I was

with her

her friends

& the ghosts crowd in

I remember nothing

of her or them

though they feel

they owned

a part of me

enough to feel happy

about that dead past

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