it’s a dull ache that sets
this heart apart from
the longing that dogs it so-
and what is longing, but realizations
of lost things, from long ago…
oh, how does the soul travel
so alone, through time,
just to find this ache,
a cold wind, only meant to blow?
and no recovery of love
will ever replace the hole
that lingers now upon
the edges of heart’s
sweet sanity;
lost to time, and this beating thought,
and the distant pain,
that coldly flows…