Sometimes we forget that love is the most splendid thing
The clock rewinds, my pattern of sleep reverts. Ten to three I labour awake while everyone else fades. The other side of the planet serves their luncheons, enjoying a momentous date; smiles flicker with reflections coming from the fluorescent bulb; yellow and acidic, torturous and barbaric. A smile is worth a day's notice; a privilege that I can no longer afford. I wake up, blood pumping, to the beats of the pulse, "Where is she?" No longer to be seen, much harder to be felt. It felt as if all the remaining goodness in me had been torn asunder. Yes, the end is neigh, but the pain is eternal.
A broken-hearted man leaves no room to grow; the love we shared shall always remind.