I cry every night.
I wallow, and I weep.
The tears stream down my face.
I ask, and blurt out useless prayers.

She may be my one an only, but maybe, maybe shes someone elses... If so, then they deserve her.

Lying naked, glaring at me, she haunts my thoughts. Her most pure form. No clothes to shield her beauty, those majestic eyes see right through me.

Love they call it. The brother of hurt.
The sister of sorrow. And the mother of healing.  Time fades with that absent love, its never forgotten, but maybe learned to love deeper then the last.

I cycle through the stages of grief and love lost, like a man playing Russian roulette.  

I often think about her at night, my last smile, followed by a tear, before I dream.
I wake to checky phone in a hurry, just to see if today is the day. I listen to our music, to hear of i missed anything that could have saved me, and I find myself more alone and lost, while searching for answers.