the pain of loving

People have hurt me before,
A sting that fades with the years,
A bruise that eventually clears,
The closing of one heavy door.

But love is a different kind,
The sharpest, most echoing ache,
The one that you can’t leave behind,
The bond that is hardest to break.

Other wounds heal in the light,
But love leaves a ghost in the rain,
A shadow that stays through the night—
By far the most exquisite pain.

So I carry the weight of the ghost,
In the quiet where memories bloom,
For the thing that we cherished the most
Is the thing that now empties the room.