Summer Night, 1913, by Albert Bloch
"There is no ghost so difficult to lay as the ghost of an injury."
~Alexander Smith
My heart is a collector
of many burdensome heirlooms
too heavy to truly hold
each loss is like a boulder
every hurt is asphalt
that could cover a boulevard
and scrape a thousand knees
I carry them all mightily
with the strength of hercules
the burdens of a thousand grievances
weigh down like titanic in the sea
and all the ghosts of abandoned longings
are still waiting to be freed
for all the force one endures
to hold them internally
is frail compared to the might
it takes to give them liberty.
Also linking with lovely Emily at Imperfect Prose