I read the same phrase for the umpteenth time
“…once broken can be mended, but the crack is always there.”
I’m using all my sewing skills to cover up the tear, but not sure if the frayed fabric of the relationship can be sustained. We’ve suffered the blues for long, and are now in the autumnal years of our life. I do not know what your once pretty face looks like now. I don’t know if you will recognize me, or want to recognize me.
Yet, I trudge up the hill – in the hope that the ensuing winter does not leave us frozen in the snow – all alone, without a hand to hold, or moist eyes to mourn our departure.
I walk alone in the dark
hope has not dwindled