She once asked me
Is it a feeling that goes away?
Do you get used to it?
Do you forget.?
I smiled
Tears clouding my vision
And said
You get used it.
You get used to
That phantom feeling
Of love
You get used to the empty bed
That you sat on
As you watched the other
Kids laugh and cry
With theirs
You get used to that feeling
Of hoping
And praying
And hoping that maybe
Maybe he was never gone
Maybe he had left
Maybe it would have been
An act worth forgiving
You keep hoping
And praying
And hoping
Until your prayers run dry
And your wishes lose value
You sit still
A smile on your face
And pretend
Pretend that everything was normal
That you never wished
He was ever there
He becomes a feeling
He becomes a prayer
He becomes that never ending
Hope
That you just can't seem
To ever let go of
YOU ARE READING
The Broken Series
PoetryI sat at the edge of a cliff ... and saw beyond a bright blue light. With little poise with little heart my broken soul it founds it's path and so I took a clean new reed. and on a leaf I put my dreams I told a tale that can't be told I shared m...
