deepundergroundpoetry.com

The Losing

The losing is the longest wait,
The finding is immediate, unexpected,
The gone a mere eye blink and done,
No, it is the losing that robs the heart.

The slow decay of affections,
The longer spaces between calls,
The attention ever diverted elsewhere,
The smiles directed beyond you, not to you.

The losing is a slow burn on the spirit,
An excruciating draw of energy,
The effervescent hope unwilling to die,
The crushing pain of unrequited love.

It is the losing that provides the physical pain,
The frostbite chill where once fingertips touched,
The stab of longing and not finding,
The breaking of fingernails as they lose their purchase.

Yes, it is the losing that is the slow dying,
Watching the last ember darken and dim,
With no hope of rekindling,
Despite the desperate attempts at resuscitation.

No amount of attention,
No amount of affection,
No amount of effort,
Can stop the losing.

And that is the greatest pain of all.