Still Trying To Forget

There's a portrait of a picture of you

hung beneath the stairs...

I never venture there

if I can help it.

There's a ringing sound between my ears

that signals your arrival.

I try to tune it out

but never can.

There's a place on the horizon

I used to visit now and then.

It was safe and secret and away from you.

I only visit on occasion now

when you're around and pulling strings

and it's an odd thing, but you're not so big there anymore.

You're not so tough or in control

when we meet in my mind these days.

Your words and fists mean nothing these days and it shows.

There's a moment within the sound of your name

that cuts my calm in half.

Thank God for the half that remains.

It blurs my recollection of you and eases the pain.

There's a portrait of a picture of you

hung beneath the stairs but

I never venture there if I can help it.

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