That day in October

She sits by an open window 

Blinded by the morning light 

She takes a drag of her cigarette 

And digs deep into her fading memory

Of what once was

And what could still be

But she knows in her heart

That his words are fulled with lies

Lies that she still craves to her

Lies that excite her naive heart

A broken naive heart

Her hand falls gently onto the window frame

As she traces his name

And like the feelings he shows no more 

The name fades with every lift of her finger tip

And every broken piece of her soul

She comes to the conclusion that maybe she's a bit obsessed 

Obsessed with her sadness, her madness

And her blinding unawareness

Author's Note

My first attempt at poetry.