Purgatories for love

Some times I wonder
what would it be like
to touch you once again?
To get a glimpse of
your tender heart,
to see your eyes filled with sunlight?

They say old loves
never die
but I get the sense
it is not so.

Instead they get stuck
in the purgatory of souls,
they resurface in between
the new moon and the old.

Still there I guess

Sometimes the heartbreak is still there
Or maybe it never really leaves.
Instead I overlook the cracks
Until they start creeping up
in every new step that I take
And the gap feels almost
Just as big as that time.

Except that now
There's not even the ache for you left.
Just the gaping hole that stayed behind,
like a mute mouth hanging open.