once having loved, and having lost it,
the lack of it grows roots and blooms
into the shape of what was but never can be again.
the space in it blackens and turns into hyphens
(lack-of-love) like bridges that the tearladen
fearleadened mind walks over until it erodes
and the different words come together
as if they were always one (lackoflove).
it opens the file of your life and finds "love"
and replaces it with "lackoflove".
whatever was colored by love is now
grayed by lackoflove.
it adds breath to the art of hurt
and makes it the heart of hurt.
it adds flesh to the heart of hurt
and makes it your exlover.
you take her away and find yourself
lacking heart, hearted with lack.
~ ajay
17/12/2024
