I imagine she's out there.
In that lauded by and by.
Thinking of me.

I hope.

Yet.
I don't know who she is.
And I understand.

She'll just.
Find.
Someone else.
Someone better.

Cause I'm just ossified in my regret.
Depressed because I'm alive.
Socially absent.

Living alone gets me down.
But I long for her hypothetical embrace.
Her ill defined face.

And my love.
For some ghost.
I can only imagine.
Out there.