gold
“Remember,” she said.
“The magic is in trying.
And always stay gold.”
We do not die from a broken heart. We live with the scars and tears forever.
And somehow we move forward, maybe slowly or at a crawl.
Like feeling our way in the dark, we hold our hands out in front of us
searching for something unknown and unseen
and trying to avoid crashing into something else.
It is true what I read. You cannot wash off the flushing heat of desire or the memory of
Love lost. It is a permanent longing.
Canticle of canticles, how you immortalize our story.
It is under our skin, not covering it.
The anguish of emptiness is the opposite of a well.
Instead of giving cool relief to life, it consumes you like water
and devours your flesh
and draws it infinitely down into it’s fiery belly
far below the earth.
The Haiku for Hearts writer didn’t often descend into the depths of high-drama, (most of the pieces were more inclined to talk about dogs or meditative practices and how they can apply to dating) but this one really goes all out for it. Same writer? Different one? We’ll never know.
