Despite the promises sublime
that brought exquisite bliss,
I find myself alone, despondent,
your gentle love I miss.
It echoes ceaselessly inside me
like waves caress a sandy shore.
Conflicting with the ache I feel.
I hunger for you more and more.
Haunted by the, “could have been,”
on the, “should have been,” I choke.
Disappointed only with myself,
being arrogant enough to hope.
Full of so many raw emotions,
my heart about to burst.
I am more aware of the void,
the emptiness, you filled first.
Days that stretch ahead of me,
are absent joy and devil-may-care .
They will wither my soul as dry as dust,
to disappear on the wind of despair.
M. Zane McClellan
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