there is a weight to time
which accumulates with the years
and as it does
it scratches memories of you
into every mirror in this house
you are in my reflection
ghostlike
but cruelly real to me
ageless and stained with a contrition
that like a scar in my slowing heart
refuses to be healed
there are days I wish I was blind
but more when I willingly surround myself
with unbearable pain
to relive that one solitary point in time
such is love
such is life
such is this man
