I won’t be a ghost

Another day another dumb fuck
Despite my better judgement
You told me not to
But I did it anyway

I kept texting him
Like some dumb lame-ass junkie
Raking up the breadcrumbs
Like they were a dessert topping

But evidently they were just left overs
Hard and stale
Old, even

Ghosting isn’t gracious
But the slow fade method
Reminiscent of a waning snake burn
Twisted and intentional
Then a caustic dissolution
of rising smoke leaving hot asphalt

Compelling you to scramble and flock
for the half eaten crust
discarded onto mildewed concrete

A sprinkling of food for the pigeons
to wrestle for
amidst their own excrement

That’s just cruel