It Was Too Long Ago

25 years must still be
hurting, a wound that could have healed
but she insists on its pain,
i want to forget
but she must have planted
a bamboo on that
brook of brine,
not too salty, but
mostly a bitter
blindness about that love
that never
fulfilled itself,
this morning i have something
to say
but she closed the door
and she
is crying still, despite
those 25 years.

how can i free
myself from this
cell of
guilt?

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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