I.

There is a sadness that I know,
a deep, crippling sadness that makes me freeze
in my tracks, as though the devil, smiling, were before me.
There is a girl that I know,
who I definitely don't deserve,
but I think about her every day of my life.
Once upon a time, she was mine,
and I was hers, and life was full of love.
That desperate kind of love.
That beautifully desperate kind of love.
Maybe it was because I was too young to die
and too scared to live. Maybe I was afraid that at the end
of the drive I was going to be kicked curbside,
abandoned at the corner of "How could you?" and "I still love you,"
just like the last time my life was full of love.
So maybe I did it before she could do it to me.
Maybe I felt the distance growing palpably between us.
The letters filled with X's and O's and clever sign-off's had stopped.
The small tokens of love which I had never been kind enough to return,
had stopped.
Maybe I was afraid that we had suddenly skipped fifty years,
with nothing to talk about but the fact
that I had grown tiresome, boring,
and had become someone that was just tolerable.
I left her. Anger in my heart, tears in my eyes,
I left her. I don't think that I wholeheartedly wanted to, but I did it.
I sat on the ******* winning lotto ticket, and I threw it to the streets.

II.

To this day, I want to kick the **** out of that scared little ****
who sat there, watching her weep and make the sounds that still
curdle my blood when I think about them.
And I do remember them, so vividly.
Because how could anyone forget the day that they crushed someone's soul?
When I went back to find that winning ticket I had
so carelessly thrown away, the numbers had faded.
The ink had run from all the raindrops, all those heavenly tears,
that had fallen on it.
Irredeemable.
An ocean of my grief would not be enough to express how sorry I am.
She's gone now.
Thousands and thousands of miles away.
Now all I can think about are things that poison my blood,
that make me ******* fall to my knees in pain.
Who might be kissing her.
Who might be sharing her bed.
Who might wake up next to her in the morning.
Who might treat her like the beautiful angel that she is.
Who might love her like she is magic,
because I know,
I ******* know that she is.

III.**

All that I'm left with now is a sickening, maddening hope that
when she returns, we might try to light the fire again.
I love her too much to let go.
When she graces me with her smile, I feel as though I might
weep out of joy.
My soul dances to the rhythm of her laugh.
Though her eyes are the color of the sea in the middle of a storm,
there is so much warmth behind them.
I would lay myself down in front of the fire of our love forevermore,
if she would only let me.
Lord knows I don't deserve her,
Lord knows that I am irredeemable,
but I just don't think I can last much longer without her.