I wish I had the ability
To write a poem
To go to sleep
To interact with people

But all I can find myself able to do
Is make myself a cup of coffee
Stare out the window into the emptiness
And let my imagination flow
With thoughts of you
Thoughts of us
What we could be

I woke up this morning
My mind consumed by you
I feel a sense of mourning
The death of a mutual love

The birth of a lonesome love
Here I am
Hurt
Again

Start thinking about
Where you go when you die
Does your soul rest where your coffin is
or is death just a metamorphasis