Lemonade


In the sadness and yes, the splendor
Of living life without you,
I’ve come to take the pain
And bend it into tarnished joy.
Somehow your absence
Can bleed me to comfort,
Like swelling relieved.
Like a poultice

Sometimes my emptiness
Can fill with a bliss
Of not touching you.
It is the purity of the pain I think.
Make lemonade from lemons?
Make something from nothing?
No I'm not doing that.
Needing you hurts.
Wanting you
Brings thick, slow, nourishing tears.
I use them for the plants sometimes.
Both of us have grown.