my heart was a battlefield
and love was the losing side
no matter the weapon it wields
hate conquered the divide

it grew to fill my once pure soul
surrounded by my sins
a vicious cycle of vexed control
hate is the one that wins.

I haven't done half the things I wanted to do with you.
Haven't made half the memories I wanted us to
And now you're gone and it hurts to  know I'll never get to do the simple things like
Lie on the grass & gaze at the stars with you
I wish we had more time.

Monday trickles into Tuesday.
Wednesday and Thursday blur out of focus.
The weekend doesn't even happen.  
Suddenly it's Monday at the end of the month
and you don't remember getting there.  
You don't remember eating
or sleeping.
You don't remember anything
expect monotony.

The days have been pureed into a monochromatic slush.
Unappetizing and bland.

At least I'm writing again
even though it's sloppier
than kindergarten scribbles.

At least I'm writing again
even if it's darker
than a moonless January night.

At least I'm writing again
even if it's not
easing any pain.