My Love

I can’t bear
to look at your picture
because I know
it will never replace
the feel of your hands
on my face.
All I have
are these pictures
and you call her
“my love.”
Yet she’s just
as out of reach,
less miles
but still
so much distance.
And you talk to her
because she can
and I can’t.
Do you choose distance
because it’s easier
than your heart lying
open and raw
for her to break
the way you shattered
mine to bits?
The way I took yours
three thousand miles away
and crushed it
beneath the wheels
of a greyhound?
Her love is safer
but mine is pure fire,
blue flames burning
through the miles.
I can’t look at your pictures
but my fingers
slide over the keys
and type in your name
so that I can peer
into your life.
But all I see
is your broken heart
set to music
and you calling her
“my love.”


3 thoughts on “My Love

    • True! I kind of want it to be devastating for him too even though that’s selfish. Maybe knowing that he really longs for me the way I do for him would help but I doubt it. Sometimes I don’t even know what I’m saying or thinking. Sorry. 😦


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