Slow Little Pain

I could say ‘I miss you’ a million times,

But the words just lose their meaning.

It’s like they are meant for a one time expression of pain,

Like the act of missing someone is a solitary hard hit,

That is then retracted when expressed.


But missing you is not a single blow,

Or a gunshot to the heart,

It’s a slow and steady simmer,

Right beneath my veins,

It’s a dull blue thread,

Woven bitterly in with every minute of my day,

Connecting them as one,

Slow little pain.






Photo by Michelle Albert


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