The Great Tragedy of a One-Sided Heartbreak

While ancient poets valorized,

the love which is not returned,

calling it a curse and a blessing,

calling it hopeless, but moving

calling it painful, but promising,

calling it everything but the empty knot,

which the heart knows it to be.

I only wonder how they’d preach

on the soul-drenching emptiness

of a heartbreak of two,

borne by only one.

What would they say,

of a hand flung amongst a haystack

of needles of blame, and pain,

trying to find a single straw of sanity?

How will they justify,

the loss of sight,

when the eyes refuse to see what’s gone,

and the loss of speech,

because the throat can’t form those words,

and the loss of touch,

because the skin is raw and scratched and feels alien now.

What would they say of dreamless nights,

and nightmarish days, and an omnipresent insomnia

between the two worlds?

What would they say,

when they see one half of a love

left to die alone,

without sanity, and sight and sleep…

I just wonder…

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