“Always” lasts for a season.
Autumn says it; but so does spring,
“Always” comes with a reason,
With hope set in a diamond ring.
Written by idiots who rhyme;
Preachers laud it as divine;
It seems family to Father Time.
It seems fair. It seems sublime.
It’s encoded in word and thought,
“Mother”, “sister”, “brother”, “lover”.
At a tuppence, “always” is bought
And then given to another.
I have let go of
My reaching out to you;
And your warmth in bed;
And otherwise, too.
I have let go of love;
And love has let me go;
I doubt there’s greater pain
Than that of feeling so.
I have let go of a past,
With no great regrets;
I have let go of how soon
Every man forgets.
I have let go of dreams;
Because mine are strangers,
With no wealth or power;
But different dangers.
I let go of being betrayed;
Of not being caressed;
I let go of the intimacy
That promises professed.
I have held lives I loved,
In the palm of my hand;
And made the decision,
You may never understand.
I have let go of ash
From the bodies I burned;
And let the sea have those
For whom I yearned.
When I’ll let go of hope,
I’ll give up the last part of me,
Then will there never be,
A speck left for you of me.
It starts with little things:
A shout in a conversation,
A caress shrugged off,
A turning away in sleep,
Or a small promise
One forgot to keep.
It starts small:
A forgotten holiday,
Or a hug once a day,
A letter never written,
Or a word one needed to say.
A refusal to touch
After all,
Speaks more than words
By not sleeping much.
It starts quietly:
No great feeling of loss,
Just a tingling warning,
A squinting of the eye,
The littlest lie,
And then there is
Destiny’s pulling back,
As it starts to die.
Hearts Still Care 
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