I am ill and have no salve nor tonic,
No solace for a heart worn by grief,
No reprieve for a soul crushed with regret,
I am but a plaything for Love,
A rag doll to be hurled around
By a petulant God,
Punishing Man for his hubris,
His gall to demand happiness,
An impudence unforgivable,
Punishable by a lifetime of
Emotional flagellation and damnation
Damnation, forsooth
**** this bottomless heart,
**** this burning blood it pumps,
**** this undying fire,
Burning for a dead icon,
Like a dog bringing sticks to his master’s grave,
This fire burns almost to prove a point
With no regard for life,
Until it razes this body clean to the ground

Serendipity begets bad luck,
In a loop with no meaning,
And nothing worth gleaning,
Leaving us all at the mercy,
Of careless Luck's whimsy

They say it's better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all, but I question that adage. What if you can't enjoy a quiet moment without thinking about your love? What if every woman you've dated since simply brings a smile to your face but one glance at her still feels like your heart is being squeezed by a vice? What if you taste this loss every single day like a mouthful of ashes? What if you need to be distracted by a new woman just so your brain will shut the **** up for a minute? What if every song that even remotely hints at love makes you think about her and no one else? Is it still better? Is it better knowing that the only person you've ever given your heart to is spending the rest of her life with someone else? Is it better knowing that this could have been so much more?