I don’t think this fire will ever truly burn out.
The coals will be banked, yes, but smolder forever.
There’s no letting this go completely. No way to forget you.
And that’s okay, I think. It’s a quiet longing that doesn’t need to be acknowledged.
One that I don’t think about until I’m awake in the middle of the night. Bolt upright in bed.
Sitting next to her, your replacement. Cold sweat dripping in bullets down my brow, the center of my back, along my spine.

Time will heal this, I’m sure. It will erase you, maybe not from my head, but at least from my heart.
I welcome the time that’s coming, when you have faded, voice fully vacated my mind.
I hope it comes gently, treading lightly over my doorway, waltzing it’s willowy way through my home.
Maybe then I will find my peace, without you.