You try to summon me
faux pleasantries,
a bouquet in the boneyard.
Spritz
my favourite scent
Agent provocateur.
Haunting
all the places
I used to go.
I’m not there
I’m not here
I’m not anywhere.
From the mirror
my reflection
has been exorcized.
Texts go unanswered.
A cold whisper,
calls to voice mail.
My toothbrush is gone
from the bathroom
My knickers too from the bed.
There’s no more
fat to chew
between us.
I am in voluntary exile,
a jaded memory.
Playing dead.