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.