Scarred hearts

Grief is a pit,
a knife slash.
In its wake a dark slither of pain seared into memory.
The threads of happiness are cut, unfixable, imperfect, staining my heart.

The Sharp blades dulled by the ticking of time.
With every tick the blade dulls and memories fade.
Tick
Your Smile, forgotten.
Tick
Your laugh, forgotten.
Tick
Your features, forgotten.
Tick
Your love, your ways, your habits, forgotten.

I am left with numb emptiness and the whisper of your smell to memory.
Tick
I mourn the once was and what never will be.
My heart is scarred, the cycle never ending.