Some say the world will end in fire,/
Some say in ice./
From what I’ve tasted of desire/
I hold with those who favor fire./
But if it had to perish twice,/
I think I know enough of hate/
To say that for destruction ice/
Is also great/
And would suffice.
– Robert Frost, Fire and Ice
I feel like I should miss you. I feel like something must linger, some pain, some longing, something to remind me that once in my life, my heart held a singular place for you. I feel like I owe it to us to keep on hurting even after it is over, a sort of tribute to everything we had, a temple to us-shaped years when we shared our lives.
But there is nothing.
I root around myself and I am puzzled by the emptiness. I can find no trace of you, so I try to place you where you used to be. Here are my lips which fit perfectly against your mouth, when they used to dance while we lay in shadows. I look at my hands that used to itch strangely when they were near yours, always so starved to be touched by you. Here are my arms that…
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