We were always a tragic love story,
two people reaching out for nothing
more than something to believe in.
Our faces were never lined enough
to understand truth; we knew such
little of the world and even less of
ourselves, gripping at each other
only to try and make sense of all
we never could.
You carried grief within your body;
a time capsule buried so deep inside
your organs you became like metal
beneath my fingers. And I was sewn
with threads of such broken fragility,
too flimsy to know how to stay intact;
but then you always knew leaving ran
through my veins.
Perhaps we will meet again, perhaps
when we have found age beneath the
scars we so carelessly left behind.
Perhaps then we will unwrite these
memories and imprint new stories on
the pages of our long-forgotten hearts.
~ ©️ Kathy Parker // Memory ~
Day Thirteen #poemadayfeb: Memory