what remains is the hunger:
a strange nostalgia,
not for what was but
for what I was going to have…
someday.
What to do
when even the price of
happily-ever-after is
tears, black bands of grief, and
the grave?
End love before it ends?
Capture it like a photograph:
Confine it in frames
of fantasy and memory;
loss redeemed in protective coverings
stronger than wood and glass
Place it before me,
never accessible but
always there
perfect
unchanging
OpenLinkNight http://dversepoets.com/
