On Selfishness


Every death, every day
reminds me of you-
and just when I let go,
move on, meet someone new
you surface and it is selfish,
but it is me who thinks of you.

I placed you high, above the rest
and when I am tested, tempted,
when I consider another,
I betray what we had. But,
what we had dissipated long ago
and you feel nothing anymore-
but what I imagine you to feel.
You are gone, laid to rest,
but I will not let you- now that
my dear is truly selfish-
in its purest portrayal.

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