The Slow Lingering Death of Love

Death is not a moment.
It seeps in, a cruel friend,
an erosion,
an abandonment
of the day to day,
a leaving,
a false belief
that love is so powerful
it can be chipped away at,
left alone,
forever

and somehow still stand,

ignoring the lessons
of history and heart,
that both are resilient
until they aren’t.

About this poem

Abandonment comes in all forms, and it’s not always physical.
But it is always, eventually, fatal.

Tom