Clutching to your memory
has turned my heart into a ghost town
Vacant and empty
What a shame for a place
that used to be abundant and plenty

For the land is barren
The fruits of my labor
Withered and gone
For the streams have dried up
And my affection withdrawn

It is not your fault and actually anything but
You’re blameless for everything
Other than the crime of stealing the best pieces of my heart, leaving me with only
the most defective parts

But then comes a day  
A day I stop searching for it all
A day I stop comparing

I then make my bed
Comfortable
Wrapped in the blankets of absence, loss and…

By the miraculous work of God

I then awoke to a bed stripped bare
And he was firmly standing there
The one man daring enough to make a home in such a lifeless place has now bloomed fields of flowers in his wake.