“You have to leave him in the past,”
Easy for my mind to believe,
while once I’d felt him and I would last.
Now I am here drowning in my thoughts,
thoughts of him and the bliss that he brought.

Call me typical.
As I reckon how he had my feelings flipping,
like a reciprocal.
A man of wit to romance my ears,
but a coward to acknowledge the tears.
Yet I am wrong, for he is no man
Just a boy who had a taste of love,
and quickly then he ran.

A fool is he not,
A fool to think that he had left me distraught.
For tears dry up and heartache does heal,
While I wonder how does the memory of me make him feel.

For one day he will miss me,
Miss the touch of my hands,
The scent of my skin,
The gaze as I looked onto him,
The taste of my tender kiss,
And he will think, “how is she?”

A question too late asked,
As he is left as a part of the past.