Tourist

I get my deepest cuts when

Strangers ask me where you’ve been,

Taking the knife already in my chest,

Pushing it even further in

 

Do I tell them you’re lost?

Do I say that I’ve been found?

Or should I leave it at the fact that

You’ll no longer be around

 

How do I respond when they tell me

They haven’t seen you in a while?

I’m torn between saying “me neither”

And pasting on a paper smile

 

You’re just another place I’ve been,

Another pushpin on the map

Of places I have visited

But am not invited back

 

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