We stopped talking when things got too real,
We stopped embracing when she knew my feelings.
A man of honor has a bleeding tongue,
Holds himself close so as to never harm
The ones who love him.
He suffers.

Pain in her presence and agony apart,
That cutting gray of mind thus parting.
But a man of honor has songs unsung,
Scolds himself, deaf to the alarm
That screams above him.
He suffers.

“You did the right thing,” is cold
Comfort when you’re alone,
Wandering all the roads
That could’ve been walked,
Now merely known by
The closed lids of fantasy –
Now but memories that never were;
A host to imagination.

And yet as the years tumble madly by,
I find it harder to recall your laugh,
Your scent eludes me, and the yearning,
Once so engulfing, is now a faded
Photo taken long ago, found
In someone else’s attic.

Was it honor or fear of loss that
Stayed my hands, words, and cock?

Now, I am no stranger
To departures. The
Man who came
Before me is
A mystery.

For one who says nothing, gets nothing.
This should surely be known, something
That sticks to our brain pans. Fear
Of loss, the destroyer of lives.
You will lose it all regardless,
None can cheat time.

With everything waiting
To be swept away, what is there
To lose? All is forgotten and all
Is forgiven by the centuries.

The heart forgets.
That’s how it keeps beating.

Remember that,
The heart forgets.

 

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