On the day of my death

On the day of my death
my heart will finally find its rest.
Rest from a violent life,
of love and unlove,
from healing to breaking to healing.

My hands will forever rest,
no more poems and songs about that someone who I lost.
No more journeys searching for what does not exist,
the love of my life.

My life has been full of love,
there is love in my life,
but not the love of my life,
cause this will take away the value of the other moments.

Each love,
in a way has been the love of my life.
I would have given my life for that love,
but when the love was lost,
I still had my life to move on.

Each moment has been perfect and precious,
every tear and moment of sadness,
has been well earned, lived, and mourned.

My life, my love,
will come to an end.
My dreams will forever live,
in their hands that so cruelly,
ripped them apart.