Stranger

Strange is the sound of a pen carving lines onto paper, and not scribing your name. Strange is the radio song that no longer holds your memory. Strange is the room where your ghost did dwell, where now it haunts me no more. Strange is the warmth of his arms, the blissful forgetfulness they create in me. Strange is me in the absence of you. Strange is the unnoticed absence of you. Stranger is you.