But tonight, I did.
It is an ache that does not wane,
does not abate
like the moon caving in under the cover of dark
It persists: a winter cough–
deep set and rattling my ribcage with each breath
It is an ache that does not go away,
not on bended, scraped-up knee,
not even if I pray,
It squeezes me in the arms I do not want,
whispers it will never let me go,
my jealous lover that has never loved.