Bad Poetry Thursday

The Remembrance of Things Past
by [REDACTED] 

Tragedy never strikes once
It repeats and repeats
Once
Twice
A week
A month
A year
Two years
Ten years
It has tenure in your heart
It keeps coming back until
Doddering and old, dulled by time
In a puff of smoke,
In an unceremonious way
It disappears
A last comfort as you drift away.