will winter hearts thaw
when forsaken songwriters
stop writing in their
forsaken songbooks

and all that could have been

I can still smell her perfume
from the last brief embrace
yet decorative half truths
and clockwork fears
held us back like
distant shock waves
crashing against an anxious shore

this time it’s too real
love too short
as beautiful and as painful
as an un-watered cactus

I want to fight
to resurrect that phantom feeling
bringing it back to the center
for one more touch

pain like this subsides
but never fully leaves
it resides somewhere down below
just under the surface of the soul

healing is superficial and
sad poetry is better
than being numb


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