they never heal
i hate to remember you
in the unwritten pages of my diary
not that i don't see, i do
at times, i confess,
to self
that i haven't stopped seeing you
yet
in vengeance, in frustration,
in despair
in the desert like longing to see you
i see you in all the unwritten pages
i write poems
to remove your shadows
from the the unwritten pages
love that's not soiled with
metaphors and mediocrity
burgeons in health
not in diaries
the thing about unfulfilled love,
in our despair to forget
we remember and remember
i had sworn to move on
but
the thing about unwritten poems
they never heal
Seems it has rained after a long time... the earthy fragrance of mud and grass has fanned out again 🙂
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