Thursday, October 17, 2013

If it hurts, is it love?

It ebbs and flows, this love and pain,
to know that you are out there,
to sense the indifference of space,
to have to wait and ache.
Your taste and scent are still there,
I close my eyes and your silhouette does not fade,
that voice keeps echoing in my head,
the motion that caresses the ghost of your shape.

I keep reminding myself that I have to keep my self at bay,
the forces that be, I respect so I keep away.
Perhaps one day there will be a wind for my sail,
it just tears me to know that my ship might never leave dock.
That in order to have some sort of form,
to start upon a rock,
I must first let you go.

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