What if, by Stacey Murphy

what if forgiving was easy?
what if
overcoming heartache was as simple as
a long nap,
a float on a pond,
a few tears at sunset?

would I
still cling to the ragged memory,
refuse to sleep,
stay on the shore,
swallow and hold my tears?

would I
believe that pain proves a loyalty
no one demanded
gripping the bars on the window
and ignoring the butterfly
that brushes my arm
as it slips out

through the open doorway?