Last Night

You went to bed tonight
to sleep with a pain cut deep.

An arrow of long ago still pierces
An affair of madness continues to remind you of sadness.

"You reap what you sow,"
that I have been told.
But does the crop ever die?
Does the plant lose its roots?

I went to bed shortly after
drowned in regret, not laughter.

I held you close, but you didn't know.
Heat between us is a warmth of just us from here on out.

"All will be okay,"
so they say.
Does the hole ever heal?
Does the forgiven forget?