Ghosts

You

And Our

Arguments, worn out like sweaters,
with patches on the elbows, slowly unraveling,

You

And Your

Demands, always wanting, always pushing,
More than I wanted, could have had, could have given

You

And Your

Pyromania, determining to build and to burn
The things that were good, the things that worked.

You

And Your

Side of the story,
Constructed to make you look like the knight and
me the distressed, the lost, the confused

Me

And My

Fault, for believing you were more than a reptutation,
for seeing what I wanted you to be, not what you were

Me

And My

Ghosts, lurking behind good memories turning sour.