Soaked-through clothes,
a clammy chill on my skin,
the same cold
my cells have memorised
on the night
I watched you
walk away.

With the cold the pain unfolds
its multiple layers of defeat,
the same ache
your heart memorises,
once you resign yourself
to the fact
that it was almost love.

 

© november child
photo credit: Susanne Nilsson via Flickr

 

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