It's been nearly two years since the last night we spent..
A pitiful attempt that I can only lament,
As I recollect the frightful prospect...
That the last night in heaven was one spent acting undead.

I was a hollow, masked up fool,
Daunted by the very thought of you;
Onto autopilot I go; Drool;
Both from lack of thought,
And thoughts of you.

How do you do?
Is that too rude?
Why did you leave?
Is that too?

Answers swirl around and bake a mind
That can't make it up to temp in time,
And so half-way these thoughts would stay.
Until the day she finally had the gall to say,
The answer that I knew is fate:

But hate it all, just the same.