Painful

iaian7 » blog » poetry   John Einselen, 12.05.07    

An easy question,
simple,
soft,
and stinging.

They ask me,
interfere,
intrude,
and wonder.

Painful to remember,
recall,
relive,
and rekindle.

A single face,
loved,
lost,
and hated.

Yet it’s there,
still,
stubborn,
and silent.

Waiting for me,
waned,
withdrawn,
and remembered.

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