Image by Aleksandr Nik from Pixabay

Seeds In A Gale

Forgetting his birthday was glorious:
proof at long last that his hold over me was broken,
he had removed himself from my consciousness
like the imprint of an image fading from a black TV screen,
nothing stirs in me now when I see pictures of him-
no latent pangs of remembered lust,
no wonderings or what-ifs or twinges of regret,
whatever chemical surges fuelled our interactions
all those years ago are long since dissipated,
scattered like dandelion seeds in a…