You’re back again, I knew you would be.
Your visits are how I mark each day as ending now,
The time between them stretches and drags,
Like a ******* great chasm of solitude.
I do feel guilty though, for enjoying your visits.
It’s selfish for me to enjoy something that makes you suffer so,
I see pain and grief contort your features with every minute that you stay.
It is not right for you to be here, with me.
They may be the highlights of my new existence,
But of what benefit are they to you?
I see you deteriorate before me and
I would weep if I could.