the thing

 the thing   is
 that i love
 you      still
 in spite
 of everything
 you are  still
 on my lips
          under
 my eyelids
 and curled
          around 
 the tubing
 that laces
          around 
 my heart
i have buried you
 among old memories
 like the petals
 you gave
 pressed in old pages
       notes
 you wrote
       words
 you carved    like    butter
 and spread     on       me
 like honey
 now stashed
 between photos
 of      other         faces
 or      left
 loose
 to tumble out
 of      books
 or      boxes
 when least
 expected
i have buried you
 but
 you have taken
 root
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