There’s a cloud over my heart.
A fog in my head.
Greyscale lenses cover my eyes, and I can’t tell where I’m headed.
My life is missing from my present. My purpose missing from my future.
Yet my past is the only thing overflowing, directing the destiny of both.
You were my compass; my color. The wind that drove away the fog.
You held my hand to your heart and taught me how to live.
I don’t know why I do the things I do, or how much longer I can continue to do them.
But without sails, there isn’t much hope once the hurricane hits and I’m hundreds of miles from land.
I am missing you, and it is costing me everything.


One thought on “Missing”

  1. E.

    Now I spend my days crying for the death of my heart. Your absence has left a void I can never fill. The smallest tragedy is that whilst we ride the waves with tattered sails we are doomed for the rocks.

    The greatest tragedy is we saw our sails tear apart and our compass break apart, yet we stood by and watched it happen without any real attempt to limit the damage we caused each other.


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