Cut Short Poem by moon batchelder

my dedication
seemed too strange. you
dared at last
believe;
like teenage kid
if faced with
santa claus.

death's seperation
wounded me. - anger,
then denial passed.
i grieve;
my life and love
as if
on pause.

a sense of guilt, i
deem unwieldy, still
rehearses
crimes
myself committed;
tho love were
the cause.

unhealthy pity
seems to claim my will
a curse.
sometimes
it hurts
however hidden
by the gauze.