Ode on Enduring Lost Love

by SL Ruth

I erase the saved messages,
lingering fantasies recorded there
no more clinging to a voice hollow in that sphere

I hide away the lace edged picture frame,
cut holes in snapshots from our lover's album
purely symbolic each of them.

I fill a box for burning,
stack it with our life,
treasured letters wound with ribboned strife;

I vacillate none too long
unless the hesitating kills me;
I will make a clean sweep, it's over and too late

for memories, unless encapsulated,
stored away for a distant,
perhaps safer date.

I remove all physical evidence,
tempting hate or tears
to face the desperation, conquer anquished fears.

I'd use the kitchen carving knife,
to incise my broken heart,
twist it round the pain-filled wound

if I could eradicate the words
the song, tender touches upon my skin,
I'd use the weapon, stop the pain, and all thoughts of him.

Instead I wrap myself in vapors
indelibly written upon my soul
to suffer and endure what mind and body will extol.

How can life be life again?
What's inside cannot be hidden,
the physical may be gone, but thoughts are not forbidden.

He is ever contemplatingly registered here;
I am dead, yet living still, tortured, hurt and breathing;
will I ever celebrate the love we knew, and lost, with reason?