There are poems of love I will now never finish

Singing nothings that are now nothingness.

You did this, you killed them, you stole out their flame

Now silence must pay back the debt of this pain.

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It hurts to know I

Wasn’t enough;

And the rivers I cried may as well

Have been blood;

For the hurting they brooked

Was as deep as a wound;

And my streams now have dried

to evaporate you.

there is now a song

it sings in tones of spider-thread

it wanders up and down the Pain…

The song is caught in a timeless place,

where the hurting worsened ’til it grew a face;

and the face is blank and its eyes are dead;

& wilted blossoms frame the head;

beautiful, but also gone.

just like us.

i wrote us a song.

Jealous love

I miss your love, your kindness

Gentleness

And Peace

I miss the way you cared for me

The softness with which you treated me

It hurts like knives in my stomach to let go

I have to trust that God is just

That he wants for me what I cannot

Even

Fathom

I know He is jealous for me…

And will hold me as I weep

Sudden

I’m still haunted

By how I held your face in my hands;

Grizzled, gray, eyes cloudy with unsight

And said “never leave me, ok? Never die. Live

Forever”

And the very next day

I woke up to your seizure; to your confusion; I remember

how you didn’t know me

And I knew it was time

To say goodbye.