Years


It’s been a hell of a year
And not enough tears
To lose the sorrow
Where your emptiness resides.
I feel it every day.
I tiptoe around
Its vast haunting hollow
And silently pray
My careful footsteps are soft enough
Not to evoke an echo
Of deadly longing.
I love you.
I always will.
You are gone.
You always will be.
There will be a hell of a lot of tears
And not enough years
Before I lose this sorrow.

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