A feeling buried
beneath
spoonfuls
of time
pleads for resurrection.

It paces within
the confines of my
ribcage. So sweet
and horrifying it is
that it still lives on,
aged & twisted.

I wanted this
love to be
put down.
There was no
future for us
with me here
& her there.
We were in
different places,
in more ways
than one.

She begged me
not to do it.
“It will only hurt more later,”
I said with a grimace,
pulling the trigger.
My heart wept as
& my body shook
to the sound of
goodbye.

& so at a private funeral
I buried my love,
deep within me,
thinking it was dead.
But it were merely
wounded.

When it woke it howled.
Now it whispers.

I wonder if, across
the ocean, it is alive
within her as well. I
wonder if she wants me
to hold her as much as
I do.

I do not know
& may never.
All I can do is keep
shoveling spoonfuls
until one day
I drown out
the whispers.