Patterned

Constantly and reoccurring…

Thoughts I have of her

Latching onto the skin around my neck,

And all my pressure points.

It brings joy to my tears to have pain.

That would not exist had I not known her.

So I weep for love lost.

That as it came, so did it vaporise,

Still yet –

The mark from her fingers,

It remains forever a reminder –

Of being loved and disposed of.

Alas, I know I was loved.