Goodbye
In past dreams my eyes are still hanging onto the windows ledge. A tired ghost stands behind me to walk my sorrow to the gallows below. At least this time, I may find a tender comfort in his presence. And you, so preoccupied with which bags to bring - you hardly notice the ones you leave behind. Hardly noticing the ones I positioned by the door. It seems all lies have their truth, at least that's what the tabloids have been promulgating - a certain particular taste of misinformation toned to turn the ear and make tender the hearts of obstinate, foolish young men. A pretty picture while it lasted, no doubt about it, one easily remembered but never found again. Stuck hanging lonesome in the halls of someone else's fantasy. Funny thing memory, always kicking back when you least expect it - always cutting out when you need it most. Just as my memories have floated effortlessly away, so too, have you. Another star to dance along the horizon and taunt certainty to a man whose forgo