Fog Rose

Deep into the night have problems of their own,
recalling that murmur of you in a distance fog,
thinking of a gentle time of when we were happy,
somehow only brings more moist to water my face,
I could do twice of much to rid everything of you,
go by what others have said and forget what we had,
clean up and start over into a new quiet night,
for the sake of seeing shine of what was once me,
no lie of how you wreaked me to the bones here,
how much taint and sin was laid on our skins,
the foulness and roughness that left lips,
and bruised the skin so wonderfully,
into the heat of the night that was ours to have,
to have that again over letting go would be wise,
yet somehow you were able to leave it all behind,
to be happy with another and never tell me,
out of spite or pain,
I was never too sure of it myself,
at least the time I think we have both grew,
even if I haven’t you my other half in so long,
the passion and raw feelings remain,
though they have moved and found new happiness,
has the mind done the same as the body,
not in the ways I would hope in anyway,
but I guess our love was like a rose,
pretty and bright with so much to bloom from,
yet the thorns remained sharp to bleed flesh,
trim we both could do but always missed one or two,
before long trying to care for it was too much,
and before we knew it,
the flower wilted and die before the next watering,
a shame of how it came to be,
and the mind never fully forgets,
much like the body wills for something familiar,
no ill to how this worked out,
but I hope for you the best,
even if you don’t return it back,
call it me being the bigger person and moving on,
when the longing is still there,
but that hunger that drove us mad,
tamed and not an issue that controls,
either I or you anymore,
we’re free and to that,
good luck.

 

 

 

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