"Is It Better?"

Is it better to have loved and lost
than never to have loved at all?

No.
It's better to have lived
several years past the loss, to the point
where you can answer that question honestly:
Yes. "Honestly," by then -

but that wasn't the question. The question was:
is it better?
Not: do we eventually
reconcile ourselves to as bad as the worst
was?

That yes
will creep in eventually, a lie
made out of time's unwinding, which
has bound all wounds and limbs, pulled
tight the tourniquet, and we call it
"healing" as the numb sets in.

Has it ever once been better
to have loved and lost?

No. It's only the whisper
of flying, lying time
that dulls the senses
in the intervening years, gets us
to forget as they fall by, lost to us
- or rather, to change our mind.
And so lose our sense,
and loose our nerves to try again,
and so, try again, and if at last
we won't succeed - the timing
will answer that question, then:

A fresh and open, honest wound,
or a tight shiny-knit lie
that smiles
where the thing that gets pulled out
keeps growing back.
The entire, sick, quasi-religious
pageant is monstrous,
and then you die.

Parted finally from all you have found,

And no. It never was
better to have loved
and lost. No,

not once.

But do you know
what's worse? Some love,
and do not lose.

Now, that hurts.

So it's worth the risk for someone, then.
Those who know it is better
to have loved

and won

than to sigh, pick yourself up
and decide

whether to try again.