HURT

I wear this crown of thorns

Upon my liar's chair

Full of broken thoughts

I cannot repair

Beneath the stains of time

The feelings disappear

You are someone else

I am still right here

What have I become

My sweetest friend

Everyone I know goes away

In the end

And you could have it all

My empire of dirt

I will let you down

I will make you hurt
********************************
I didn't expect it to hurt quite so much, this goodbye. Nobody likes goodbyes anyway, but we can anticipate them sometimes and cushion the blow by being ready. Or at least we think we can. I tried to will myself, to steel myself against the pain I knew would come, thinking that might take the sting away. I should know better after all these years that it doesn't work that way. The pain still comes, and oftentimes in different ways than you anticipated. Sometimes it comes in waves, others it stabs and stings. The mind conjures up moments and images that were once "forgotten," now so vivid and omnipresent. How did it end up this way? Where did things come unglued?

I may never know.