This Is Not New

It never hurts less. It never "goes away" faster. 

The gnawing knot burning in the bowels of the belly
Is that where the heart has fallen? The heat of the unrequited effort  
a molten lava organ
searing its way down to the epicenter
of the soul
the stomach sickness
the churning and twisting
the absolute agony 
of every memory
every sweet word
every cherished fingertip graze
half-smile
soft snore
cute quirk
all are sharp echoes
stabbing
and
stabbing
and 
jesus christ am i bleeding

it never gets easier. familiarity does not bring speed to healing.

the emptiness a hollow of a wound deep and dark with no suture available
or even capable
the gaping pit heaving and undulating, whimpering and whining
crying and spitting 
and hands grasp the outer folds
trying to bring it shut
clasp it together
self-soothing
tears in the darkness
while scrambling for anything
to seal the cavernous
maw of pain
so indescribable

fading in and out
how pretty the haze
it helps 
remembering when
remembering when
remembering when

head on the lap
a quiet afternoon
the swell of new love
the surety
this is it
we were lost
we have been found
we are everything.

late movies,
staying in bed
curling bodies
big spoon little spoon
face to face
interlocking
unyielding closeness

the screaming and ripping torment of sentimentality brings everything into focus immediately. 
but had it stayed that way...

had it stayed that way.

this is not new, but i wish it was.
i could fool myself into thinking
"it will be over soon."