They say
"Time heals
all wounds."

"It glues
the pieces of you
that broke
when you were torn
from your lover's heart
and thrown onto
the ground."

I say
that's a lie.
For after 3 years,
5 months,
12 days,
22 hours,
42 minutes,
and 50 seconds;
you are still
haunting me.

The puzzle
never fits.
The heart
still aches.
The candles
stay unlit.
And at times
I break.

No,
time does not
heal all wounds.
But it gives you
the strength
of a 10-ply tissue,
the memory
of the finest sieve,
and the melancholy
of a young literati.

It gives you
threads of silver and red;
and it's up to you
to weave the mess
into a conceivable,
beautiful,
tragic scar.