If we meet again on this dismal planet
I would have to walk past you
Without a mere hello.
Your presence would make this hurt come alive.
It would be volcanic ash smoldering,
Sizable burns on fresh wounds,
A questionable eruption of thousands of once dead butterflies coming alive.
Spring would awaken, stomachs would somersault by the first lock of pensive eyes.
I could never stay in the room more than fifteen minutes again with you
Or I’d be stuck forever, paralyzed by this moment In time.
I have wasted years on a love gone cold.
I cannot waste a second more.
Not this time.
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