in the end
All that remains is
the memory of it the
stirred broth I ache to taste
to satisfy this urge
that grew into something
it was never supposed to become
an unexpected butterfly
rising from a cocoon
I thought was all
there was
when there became so much more
in the end
there is only the
memory of it
the soft touch in the
dead of night
the connected lips of a kiss
we should have avoided
the silky feel of you
I should never have
tried to feel
and embrace
a tease , an intense and
delightful pain
all packing into that limbo time creates
reshaping it all into something
that seems all pleasant
when it was not
memory hiding the truth better
than forgetting does
shaping reality into
something different
from what it was
and revealing what it could have been
when it could never have been
in the end
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