Another Vagabond Lost To Love

6 months, 2 weeks, 4 days,

and I still don’t know which month it was then

or what day it is now.

Blurred out lines

from hangovers

to coffee

Another vagabond

lost to love.

4am alone and on my way.

These are my finest moments.

I scrub my skin

to rid me from

you

and I still don’t know why I cried.

It was just something in the way you took

my heart and rearranged my insides and I

couldn’t recognise the emptiness you left

me with when you were done. Maybe you

thought my insides would fit better this way,

look better this way, to you and us and all the rest.

But then you must have changed your mind

or made a wrong

because why did you

leave?

6 months, 2 weeks, 4 days,

and I still don’t know which month it was then

or what day it is now.

I replace cafés with crowded bars and

empty roads with broken bottles

and this town is healing me slowly but still

not slow or fast enough because there’s no

right way to do this.

There is no right way to do this.

There is no right way to do this.

- Charlotte Eriksson