Tear-stained patterns mark every inch of our history.
And those shattered glass panes you broke at my feet
Will not recover their glory. No matter how hard you try
To fix the ill-gotten tapestry of our past,
I would much rather forget it all.
Burn it as I silently watch your angered face.
These long-suffering sighs and cries of mine will not go away,
Even though you wish I would.
YOU ARE READING
Never In Spring ✓
PoetryAlways winter, never in spring, but she'll wait a thousand lifetimes for him. A personal account of a bitter, heartbroken lover's descent as she grows, watching her blooming love wither into nothing. Love poetry anthology. © elle sonder 2024
