Adept at lying.

A master of her craft.

Woven like fine fabric.

So as to be imagined in her warped mind.

Yet still I reach out to her.

Each conversation like the last.

It all leads to him.

Her life is altered by him.

Her soul may be dead.

How time has ravaged you.

It goes by so quickly.

This Christmas has come and gone.

I bought you a gift.

I waited, but you didn’t call.

A lone gift sits under the tree.

Forgotten and alone.

Just like me.