Ode to the Unhealed

Though your passing causes both emptiness and ache
Days will come when my memories are faded
But for now each morning when I wake
I push even those away to create stone and mortar, to be jaded
But for now the wound is fresh and will not heal
Each sense is overwhelmed as a melody of that distant land
Every expression written or said is trite
Through my first heartache the two of you were my keel
Unconditional souls, more endearing than any hand
Without you the world, my world is the darkest night

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