She looked at him like he was the sun,
In that she never looked at him,
Except out of frustration.

She complained when he was gone,
But she never looked.

On days he was stronger, she hid from him
On days he was muted, she complained.

She never looked at him until he was leaving,
And in the beauty of the sunset she wondered how,
She'd never seen him before

there is a well of sorrow
so deep
it cannot be articulated with tears
an ache
so fierce
it consumes you
until all that you perceive
is all that you have lost