If You Want to Live

For leaving—
any excuse, however flimsy;
in love's promise—
expectation feels so out of place.
To touch a body—the clarity of contact itself is absolute.

One whose heart roams free—
how can I reach to touch them?
With what backward pull can I call them back?

I set you free, in this moment.

Sometimes...
we must bind ourselves in sorrow's embrace,
swallow down certain pains...
what good does it do, keeping that knot lodged in the throat?

Some hurts must be accepted,
in hope of healing...
what good comes from deepening the wound?

Some voices must not be touched;
if you want to live, rather...
forgetting is essential.