You Are Still With Me Poem by Elizabeth Haasch

love. Is it like a broken mirror.
Seven years of bad luck.
Seven years of wondering where it went,
what happened and how.
Is it like the twisted moral of the story.
Never do it because you'll always get hurt.
and there I am breathing again.
On my own. My own breath. My lungs. My chest. My heart.
You do not rule. You do not rally. You do not regenerate.
and here I sit wondering
where this is going and if there is some way
to tell you to show you to help you see, me.
Help you realize this is not just a haunting past,
but a draining future.
One with no happy ending
nor a fairtale told with kings queens and those damn horsemen.
and everywhere he still is with me
like breath on my shoulder.
Whispering in my ear
that nothing can ever be fixed
that silver lining in the clouds will never reappear.