(04/25/2016 National Poetry Month HitRECord challenge)
When it's all gone:
the warm divot of the pillow,
the scent on the shirt,
When it's all gone,
when there's nothing left
but your pain, your loss,
the tears in the back of your throat,
How can you let that pain go,
when it is the last piece of your love,
so still and so precious,
left cupped in your hands?
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