Time

Time doesn’t stand still.
A year older.
A year wiser, another year of wishing you were still here.
To feel it all,
well that would consume me.
Part of me fears that by letting go,
to really feel,
to accept, 
to grieve,
to move forward,
I’d be betraying a love that still lives.
Another year and I’ll be blowing out candles to the same wish.
For time to stand still.

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