Is there any way to make me forget?
The smell, the touch, the presence,
to make me feel the pleasure of
loves warm, embracing, feel?
I compare all others, and yet
Though he was woefully inadequate
terribly manipulative
and a scamp or the highest degree
all others still fall sadly less then he!
To me!
I am defective I must assume
To love that which returns love laced
with the poison of grief and self hatred.
For I know as I sit here 1 year later
that he has not tried to be in touch,
he has not tried to let me know he is safe,
he has not made the decision to be sober,
and still the tears fall, on a sad, woman’s face.
Today I cry for me for the us that isn’t
For a spring without the joy I used to feel
For a lifetime stretching out ahead
Where I cannot ever love again as I did then
As I did when he was my love!