Reconstruction

It is still home to you, I know it is,
No matter how much I may wish it weren't.
It only hurts because it's also his,
But that is something I have slowly learnt:
That I cannot divorce the place and man,
And so each time you call it home to you
I try to hold it down, but doubt I can
Because it pains me as so few things do
To think you still live there within your soul
And all that is outside is but a dream.
I know that though it's truth, this isn't whole
But yet so often that is how things seem.
Cannot the past be past, and go away?
Not all forgotten - but not here today?