There Will Be Substitutes Poem by RIC BASTASA

and for him to be alive for another year
he takes the substitutes for such absence

he justifies
this absence shall make my heart grow fonder

he looks at himself in the mirror
and feels the gloss of the glass on his face

the pain is there and it may subside a little bit
but it is there and it has always been there

and it will always be there
always

the substitutes heal the surface and makes a scar
the real pain inside keeps piercing
to the bottom

always and it has always been there
like a cancer of love always, always creeping, growing

there is no cure