Afterlove

If there’s an after love, then I wanna know
Is it a storm
that violently billows and booms, and
bangs on the windows, and
blares in your ear, and
beats you ‘till you break;
‘Till you plead “O Lord, my soul is yours to take”?

Is it the sea?
Does it roll soft?
Do you miss it - Do you miss her? - Do you still love her?
Does it bend, sinister, like an eel on the shore, and
Inch forward, forward then
‘Till you’re six feet deep and
You drown in quiet sobs again.

Or is it the wind
cause it hurts like the breeze
when it blows out the fire - smoldering,
and
slowly dying, and
carries away the black, black ashes
of every sweet memory?

But maybe it’s all these things,
And none of them, you know?
It’s just better not to call it what it is. Just...
remember that I’m here.
Because it’s hard, I know.
It’s the moment after love
that love is needed most.