It's Too Late For That (7-15-08) Poem by Bobbie Jean Wright

I have no doubt
he will never come back
but in the same sense
he will never leave.
It isn't fair
that he should steal
so much of my time
leaving me feeling so empty.
Although I have nothing to hold onto
I cleave to his heartstrings.
(like an infant,
starving for mother's milk)
I am vamished for his kiss.
How could he leave me
hanging here with nothing...
less this stagnant leftover-love
putrid and stinking of him
There's no use fighting
I can't live without it's rot...
eating away at my soul.
I've tried so many ways
to forget him
just lay him aside
(like cigarettes)
but the heart is in it now
it's too late for that.