She Aches, Love

Love bends each branch of misery to fit her sadness

after she’s moved on.

She is a she, love.

nothing else can be so purely cut.

(lust is a man though

unthinking, unbridled, pleasure-filled pain.)

You feel what she feels, love.

and she feels every nick and slash

from words, to touch, to dead stares.

At the same time she can make you feel nothing

and that nothing never felt so heavy,

the emptiness has no walls

and it goes on forever.

Don’t be fooled by her smiles though, love.

she takes no joy in this pain.

she’s only learned to live in it.

Worse then the deep pains caused when her heart was pulled away

is the throbbing ache that is left in its place

which will never cease

and when she drops to the floor sobbing

its merely her body wincing from a wound that never healed.

5 thoughts on “She Aches, Love

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