those stinging little barbs that you lob from your bunker
those emotional hand grenades
everyone of them has missed your intended target.
and the ones that do
are duds.

yet its still difficult.
and it still hurts
like the pain of a phantom limb.
knowing its gone for good
and wishing it were there.
to feel-
anything.

like a knife plunged into a pre-existing wound.
hot metal burning a hole-
a welcome sensation.

is that what you want?