, , ,

She wasn't sure who the man was in her bed
someone she once loved
suddenly a stranger, a false party
without satiation or
wanting to love for the sake of love
for the memory of it
with hopes it may still be a seed
after all the dead leaves are swept away
it may grow again

She is afraid to let go
for love or nostalgia
perhaps for compassion
His own broken hearted and disparaged countenounce
delves deep and remains churned

Together they are eviscerate
apart they are able to stand