Lost Love

Lost Love

As it drifts toward memory,

a slow, suspended journey,

Dark and lonely heights,

Carved out by the flames

of bittersweet days

descending toward the dark.

 

Looking back I see

idol hours spent for naught

I sit forsaken

by my own burning heart,

a flaming shrine

to passion undone.

My mind is dust,

an urn full of ashes

freshly gathered from a fire.

 

Alone,

A word too often writ,

Doesn’t sting,

It crushes.

 

Cruel time,

Without a pause

Rolls onward, and when I push

For one last fight

Against its ever-steady pace

I stumble against its motion.

 

I crack upon the sidewalk,

Blood pools on the pavement,

A harsh release,

I rise a little less of a man,

But readier to walk again.

 

Thank God for that wasted time,

Rejoice at what is lost,

To live a little is to die,

Bit by bit,

With pieces

Left behind

In pursuit of wayward dreams

And useless memories.

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