I carry an ocean of regret and longing,
Things I never got to say,
Before you went away,
But these streams of poetry
Slowly drain waters roiling,
While thoughts of you are gently boiling,
And time ticks by with every exhalation,
But this love has no expiration,
And I have no explanation,
And no expectation,
And this awful want knows no reason,
Growing no less with each passing season,
Like a virulent plague spreading,
And a dire end most dreading