I cannot help but feel
that we are not meant to contain this
that we are but shallow vessels,
because it hurts me so to look at you.

It hurts to see you run both hands through your hair
to see those crooked bottom teeth
to be in the gaze of eyes that change colour on the hour.

A deep ache
that resides in place
I could not hope to reach
in order to remove any thoughts of you
and I do not think I would wish to.