Without you, I'm stripped bare,
the usual, the empty shell,
the heart that slows, and beats
less certainly.
The pietied fool,
lost on another quest to forget you,
an animalistic nature creeps in,
rages at dead happiness.
And you,
whose love cannot be resusitated,
whose hours of joy given no longer feature
in my future, as I will the world
to allow me to get over, to drift once more
on a comfortable couch of uncertainty,
instead of regretting every single action,
and wishing I were someone else.
