It hurts.
You know what I mean.
Like ripping off a bandaid-
Except this one is a mountain high
And firmaments long.
And one thread at a time,
It pulls at my heart and shreds it
With the recollections
Of ideas, loves, memories
We were ready to create
And share.
Is it the end?
You seem to think so.
But is it wrong of me to hope
That this adhesive strip
Pulls up not disgust and forgetfulness
But hope?