After all this time,
I wonder how you're doing.
My bones tell me to be angry with you
for walking away when you promised not to.
But my heart pretends to understand you and
Gives excuses for you .
Do you miss me ?
Or did i become like one of the streets
in one of the cities that you once visited.
A distant memory that you don't remember unless
you see a picture of me or read a poem
that you once allowed your heart to write