Descriptive language,
exaggerated adjectives,
all come up short
for the emotions I feel.

Putting pen to paper
isn’t working,
it is not enough
to try and explain
my feelings.

After all this time,
brewing quietly,
and settling beneath my ribs,
becoming part of me.

Perhaps
distance and time
will give me a new perspective.
Distance and time
can shift
a point of view.

So I return
to the lake,
surrounded
by stone and pine.
The water,
cold but clear,
blue and green.

For a moment,
the chaos quiets.
For a moment,
I can almost believe
healing will be simple.
That time and distance are enough.

But the lake
cannot carry the grief for me.
The wind
cannot scatter it.
The waves
cannot wash it away.

They soften the ache,
but they do not erase it.

Because even now,
when the water is calm
and the sky is clear,
I find myself thinking of you.

Distance and time
may offer perspective,
but they will not diminish
my feelings toward you.

Nothing can do that.
Not the years between us.
Not the miles.

Not even the version of myself
that rose,
like a phoenix,
from the ashes
and learned how to live
without you.