Within a Name
A country singer jumping from bar to bar, glared at me like I was a fan. A cold blooded handshake from a deadbeat dad, and all I knew about him was his name. He will never remember mine. Never wanting to remember the ghost, I crumbled the memory. Throwing it across the room into the copper wire waste basket. It remains a stain on an empty space. Forging a hot iron across a part of me that doesn’t exist. They say you can’t miss what you’ve never had… I shouldn’t miss what I’ve never had.