11th Plague

Words were always so easy

until you.

It is as if lead has infiltrated my tongue

to still it.

I call this the 11th plague.

You are it.

You are the leaves in my rain gutters,

clogging up my arteries,

stilling all thoughts of a life with you.

I ache for you still.

Even in moments when I wish to forget you.

Even when I know you do not want me.

You are the 11th plague.

An open wound,

made more painful with every encounter.

You are you.

How can you help it?

And I am me.

How can I bear it?