Stretch the muscle to feel,
Find only air and familiar void.
Skin seems lame in a shade of gray,
Where scars hold no more memory.

Loss is a nasty whisper,
Beckons you to be alone,
Then punishes when lonely,
Crashing into a sea of gray.

A smile once was alive,
But now is forced mechanics.
Loss is a nasty whisper,
That progressed to shouting.