Lasts for a time long past its expiration date,

Like a drop of juice sliding down the side of the cabinet,

reluctant to make it to the bottom.

And when it finally does,

all you see is the trail it left behind.

You wish it were never there, but you can’t

help and search for it every time,

as if one more time you examine it is one more time you’ll be enlightened.

It goes away eventually when a new pain takes over.

Hurt after hurt replaces the old

and the raven caws again.

It’s something you can’t get over, yet you wouldn’t want to,

because if you did, that would be like losing all hope.

You want to hang onto that hope that things will work out,

even though they never do.

So it goes and starts all over again.

And all you are left with are more unanswered questions.