A senseless work of art
that is what I am
a being without heart
to you I'm not a man

I miss the smell of ecstasy
desire burns my soul
my tears will acid be
ending me in whole

I miss the taste of passion
saline on my tongue
now its only ashen
like a near-dead smoker's lung

I miss the sight of jubilance
a thing for sorrowed eyes
your beauty was the evidence
reason for my demise

I miss the sound of springtime
dancing on your voice
now I see a pantomime
in which joy is not a choice

I miss the softest caress
as our lips would lightly brush
now my minds a mess
my body on a rush

I miss your vibrant groaning
as I penetrate your mind
and the sound of your moaning
when we explore the find

I miss your pulsing heart rate
felt through your tightening skin
and how I debate
our affection is a sin

but then you said you loved me
and that you were here to stay
but ripped my heart in pieces
as I watched you walk away

so now I live a empty life
always missing you
wondering if, through your strife
You might be missing me too

A senseless work of art
that is what I am
a being without heart
to you I'm not a man