I am afraid and desperately lost in angst,
That I will somehow, someway find the way to lose you.
You look at life in a way that a man who has not suffered would.
Though, I know you have.
With me, and because of me.
Listening to Amy Winehouse sing "I love you more than you'll ever know", I realize you won't.
You won't know.
Ever.
Not in the truest of senses.
Liquored and beyond depressed, I wonder how much of your heart I occupy.
I write.
Not in the sense to be compared to any of the greats, of whom I admire more than I love my right to breath free air.
Amy says, "I am only flesh and blood."
Am I, though?
I have blood.
I have flesh.
But have they met?
Do you know either within me?
Do you know why my blood flows?
For you.
Do you know why I've let my flesh to go on?
For you, only you.
No one else.
Not family.
Not friends.
You were there - during the darkest of times.
And you're still here and I don't know why.
Please tell me.
I don't understand.
I thought you would be gone by now.
Lost to the madness, as long as you were far from me,
Yet, when I wake in the 'morn you are still here.
Why?
I don't deserve love.
I am unworthy of such dedication and convoluted love.
Your beauty and your registry is beyond my measure,
I have nothing that I know would keep you by my side.
My beloved, I haven't the words to define my love for you,
And my hatred of Life.