So I lay here … broken dreams staring me in the face. A hopeless place. Her stories  haunt me. They plague me by day but especially by night. I love her. Every broken piece… every detailed  horror story… I  love her.
I want her to be mine… to have and to hold through  sickness and in health . Only by  death to ever part… She must  only say yes…
If only  I  could dull the pain… or calm her fears. Put to rest every doubt she has in her heart. Doubts of what she is  with  me… doubts she has about  him. Am I  simply  a side quest  or the main story. Do I  put 2 more coins in and continue  or  accept the  game  is over and come another day to play again. When  not only  I'm better… but the  game  it self realizing  only  that which  the game itself can realize. That I'm player  one… the only  and ill never give up.  
There is joy in this lonely morning  … as I  stare at the roof and wonder  what I  could of done better…. Could of done more… and come to accept  that I am me… that should  be enough for anyone . Why isnt it enough  for her ??

I sit here asking these questions… for mountain sides and beachy romances lead me to believe that this  poem… this  finite meaning of imagination is real . And If I  could simply  but add a word and  the poem will move on … for sadly that  is what poems do