Literature
Futuristic Lover
Futuristic Lover
I can picture my future clearly,
Every crack in the wood floor,
Every photo on the walls.
I can see where I'm going,
I can see where I've been.
There is a Ghost of a Lover,
That slowly passes through these images.
But it's never there long enough,
To even make a dent in the chair.
A fragrance of false hope,
And the smell of dried tears,
Is clouding my mind.
There are books,
Scattered across the counter,
Stained with coffee.
I pace back and forth,
Wondering,
If you'd come home,
Whoever you are.
And in this present,
I'm sitting here wondering,
Who is that ghost wandering my future?