For him,
I am only a memory.
A fleeting thought,
Not unpleasant in nature.
But for me-
For me he is a dying life-
My life
Which I have sacrificed for him.
What I have felt so strongly
As to feel such pain
Of death
Of sorrow
Of regret
As it rots inside my soul,
Encasing it in a prison
From which there is no escape.
Only I can remember the sunshine,
The rain as it fell on my face
Cooling
Refreshing
My soul.
In itself, these thoughts are torture
For I know I can never again achieve
Such peace.
Now exists
Only a smothering darkness,
Never again to be warmed by the soft light
Of Love.
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