As I sit by this angry fire, I am at war and at peace.
Your face lingers, Like dust on a bookshelf, Like the stench of old cologne, But I am no longer consumed by it.
My overwhelming desire, Is a distant memory. You restructured my being, A living-lifeless paradox.
Your laugh melted my walls, And your eyes were magic stones. Your lips were soft as snowflakes, And sometimes just as cold.
Every now and again, I'm swarmed by memories of you. They no longer bring me anguish, Or unbearable tear-filled dreams, But proof that we were real. And we always will be.