The Shape of What’s Missing
Some loves fade like light through a closing door.
I measure my days
by how long I can go
without thinking your name.
Some days,
it feels like healing.
Other days,
like forgetting the lyrics
to my favorite song.
You once said love
wasn’t supposed to hurt—
but maybe it always does,
when it’s real enough
to stay long after it’s gone.
About the Creator
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Pandora’s Burden
“My brother warned me to not accept gifts from the one who commissioned you,” said Epimetheus to the woman clad in silvery raiments standing at the entrance to the temple. Her silver tiara and the silver rings on her fingers and toes glinted in the firelight cast by torches set on either side of the doorway. Lingering in the shadows, beyond the reach of the flames as she was, he could not tell what she held in her hands. At first what appeared to be a box was perhaps a funerary urn, or maybe merely an apple.
By J. Otis Haas6 days ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
Beautiful poem!♥️🙏🙂
This is very heart touching.