"Poetry and hums aren't things which you get, they're things which get you. All you can do is go where they can find you" – A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh
I will want to forget you.
To lose all echos that come with what you are.
I will want to forget that I sit alone in the darkness without hope of having you close again
and that I cannot put you into words that make you truly side-by-side with me.
I am not lost though,
I mill around a little, sweetest.
But having lost something unexplainable, it seems I am still here.
I feel more so now than I did before as I fill the hole you left with little rocks.
Within the gaps seep flashes of you, but as they settle down each is filled
and crushed underfoot.
And in time it will be as if the hole was never there – but for the discoloured lines of newer stone.
We know we never entirely forget – but pain is passing
ebbing gently, slowly away so that to hold on seems pointless.
You cannot carry an empty thing, my love.
the weight of it alone is worthless,