They say that over time, it dissipates -
it will drain from you, evaporate like smoke.
It will descend upon you, destroy you;
but will soon release you, and fade.

But with time it instead grows stronger,
demanding to be felt.
It knocks on the doors of my soul,
its urgency to be let inside unrelenting and ruthless.

Like an unpredictable storm, it lands and ravages,
leaving just fragments of a heart already rebuilt.
What is gone is the will;
the resiliency dulled, the courage spent.

It's a deep-rooted ****, an unrivaled opponent;
It's a malevolent fire that refuses to be smothered.
The Hurt:
a wound that permeates, and remains.

it had seemed like he didn’t even care,
as if her presence meant nothing to him.
he had known her love was ever so rare,
but like a candle, he let it fall dim.

she knew it was wrong to let this go on,
so she told him she was ready to leave.
he laughed and told her to leave after dawn,
that he’d help her move, but never grieve.

as the sun rose, she could taste her freedom.
she was prepared to escape his tight reins.
he watched her walk and realized he was dumb.
he was feeling her loss inside his veins.

his heart broke as hers was starting to heal.
no more “together”, life alone was real.