The pressure builds....

Being near her is like summer.
Warmth expressed and mind of thoughts divests.
Beauty is defined by her, not because she wants
but because she is.

The weight grows...

When Tennyson said “it is better to have loved and lost…” he hadn't felt the weight of her loss.
And I did it!
It was me who struck the final nail in future's coffin.
Such responsibility is enough to **** a man...

Darkness downward flows...

“But I felt neglected!” he shouts at the void.
As if the hole could be filled with excuse.
Flailing without aim he drank himself to shame and burnt his soul with end’s flame.

The silence of despair crows...