Cloudy is your name upon my tongue.

With careful ease, I let the breeze of my sigh

push your memory aside in a short breath.

If I ponder upon you for a moment longer, there is a chance

you will haunt me in snippets of broken promises, dog-eared photos, and silence.

But if your ghost does show up on my stoop, then I will call it catastrophe and lock the door.

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