Love is a fickle thing.
It's great until it doesn't get its way.
When the object of the love
Is removed,
Love turns to decay.
Blackening the heart.
Without you here the love rots.
And decays.
Creating a black hole
******* the rest of the joy
And happiness in other parts of my life
into it.
And grief is what they call it.
Soul *******,
World crushing
Grief.
And the love I want to give to you
Turns to sadness with no where to go.
Rots and decays within my chest.
Until the grief swallows it whole.