I linger on the corner
Near the place that you called home.
No love, rendition border,
Just a dead number in my phone.
I used to walk this street
With so much feeling in my heart.
Now the pavement seems to burn my feet
A rotted apple cart.
Cross my arms
And galiantly pretend that I don’t care.
It’s a history of harms
And words that burnt up in the air.