A poem is supposed to rhyme
Write about happiness and butterflies
The pain of heartbreak is acceptable too
But avoid the ache of feelings true
Don’t mention the touch of absent lips
A lonely evening and forgotten kiss
A glass figure set to rest on the shelf above
Falling, shattering with broken love
Pieces missing but glued together
Over time you’ll learn to settle
Not bleeding broken or torn
Just empty lonesome and far too worn
It’s a heartbreak cliché
But truth can often seem that way
The thing that most try not to do
Is mention how we’re missing you