Pretty Scars

I cling so tightly to the days I saw my father cry,
to remind myself that every cold heart still feels the chill
My love was beyond reluctant to see that you'd gone
But, with time, I stopped thinking I was going to lose you,
and realized I already had
We never even got our goodbye,
and yet I know yours better than the hundreds I've heard
The hugs you continue giving me in my dreams
have become too real to un-feel
I'd still give up everything I've gained to hold your hand;
to have one more hour of those timber-brown eyes,
which I remain convinced must be harboring Eden
It's amazing to me how the seasons
don't quite change without you here
The days just ache like eyes which no longer
have enough power left in them to focus;
the cruelty in that being the ability to go on trying
It wasn't my heart which fell for you;
nor my mind, eyes, soul, or senses
It was me
The same me who'd call when you were home with the flu,
just to make sure you had someone to talk to
The same me who'd save your seat on the bus,
so that you'd be around to make January feel a little less cold
The same me who'll never be satisfied
without your love in my life
Because now that I know everyone's capable of crying
I don't want to cry anymore

Poetry from Ink and Emotion by Shane Windham
E-book and paperback now on Amazon.com

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