I don’t control impulses that recall
you crisply vivid in past moments
anymore than I can control the breeze
that teases my skin like ghostly kisses
And how many unexpected times must
thoughts of you end up making me
feel so alone in darkness and small?
Doesn’t the all these scars I now carry
seem more like your loves signature
for each time you did me wrong?
Some loves are too costly to be dared again
So- if your true nature is to hurt and break;
why do you pretend- to love anything?
Still- you leave me standing with water
and memories rushing through…my fingers
Poet of the Light ©2019