Whatever it was back then
when it started in her head
is over now,
even though she
clearly doesn’t like it
the end of the affair
the painful conflict between love and life,
when she needs him most,
he’s not there,
the space beside her
with dented sheets
and the fading memory
of what was and now
can never be again,
her words thick with
anguish
and desperate pleas
he seems to ignore,
love sometimes dies
all at once,
yet not in this case,
watching it die little by little
is like feeling the
pin pricks
of dying again and
again,
aching to put it out
of its misery,
only uncertain as to
how,
reluctant in case the dying
can be reversed
so, she endures it,
feeling each sting,
knowing death is
inevitable
but gambling in case
it’s not.
No comments:
Post a Comment