Poems?

Memory

In the wisps of my memory, I recall,

Standing there, alone and forlorn.

The wind was rushing through my hair,

As I gave the city a weary stare.

I recall gazing at his house,

Far in the distance, barely visible,

Him with his lover, happy and roused,

But to him, I was merely despicable.

I continued to look at my tormentor's place,

I would grant his wish of disappearing without a trace,

For nobody would notice a nobody missing,

Unless through a yearbook, they were reminiscing.

I remember standing on the edge,

Looking down at my only escape,

I took a step off the ledge,

And welcomed the thrill with embrace.

As I float here, a wisp of my former self,

I wish I could say I was wrong about my death.

But everything went on as I predicted,

For I was never seen as a victim.