A phone call away too many years late,
Facebook will challenge my excuse,
and to this ghost I wish him well,
I can’t burn a bridge with this tiny lighter.

Beneath its bridge I lost your number,
where was once a cohesive bond,
a day will come when all is lost,
in spite of crystal memories,
inability to make them any longer.

Unlike a breakup,
plutonic and abrupt,
to stretch apart in time,
I still think about you all the time,
and to this ghost I wish him well,
mutuality is sadder.