cant, but write.

time heals all wounds they say,
but do broken hearts ever mend?
as much as we hope they do
and as much as we pretend;

once when i was in love deep
time's gift i didnt realise to keep
the rosey days and fragrant nights
filled with intoxication of deligh,

her hand to hold, her smell, her smile
kept me awake, fullfilled, senile,
her love, her kiss, her warm embrace
the time, the days, the crazy haze

when it ended, it left me broken, numb,
i played along, playing dumb,
while i believed i'd be fine in some time,
till then, i could only dabble in some rhymes;

i wonder when i'll be ready again
to love, to kiss, to touch without pain
when i'll, again, join the human race
admire in a woman, her poise, her grace,

tryin' to enliven somthing in me which died
how, when, what to do when i've cried
what cure, what medicine, what serum you prescribe,
in search of which, i write....i write...

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