She said
I was now
Her enemy

And perhaps
That hurt me
Most –

Knowing
This heart
Couldn’t handle

Anymore beats
That should
Skip

Out of learning
The worst
Isn’t death

But assuming
Fear
All around it

Preserves
What life
Can betray us

Faster
Than breath
Should escape,

From lungs
Whose air
Is belief

Each symptom
Felt
May distinguish

Between
These senses
Deluded

By panic
Or dread
Without cause.

Since friends
Are forever
Some curse

Holding times
Too dear
For forgetting

Within
Both hands
Put together

Aiming blame
Like guns
At our heads,

Confirming
Love doesn’t
Last

When parents
Raise
Little children

As thorns
Not blossoms
Excited

To share
Such flowers
They bloom.

– J. Pigno