I think my eyes are broken,
for I cannot stop these tears.

She is gone.
My hands are empty,
like two deep valleys
that I cannot seem to fill.

She is gone,
and I am lonely,
left with these memories,
these wolves
that worry me to pieces with
their short, sharp teeth.

There is little solace left for me,
two arms, one hug,
and nine hundred miles between us.
But I know that she still cares.

So I smile amidst my tears,
a rose among the thorns,
as I close my eyes
and rock myself to sleep.

AcB 7.23.00