I felt so safe once,
I wrote poems of love and admiration,
The love is still there and yet she is not.
The chasm I feel was once filled with joy and laughter,
Now there is only pain,
The hate I feel for myself for letting her go has taken the place of my happiness.
Who can say if I will ever recover,
There is no rulebook for this suffering,
I just hope that I can survive.
Perhaps I should have kept my poetry for happier times,
It makes for better reading,
But a format I used when I was a happier man,
Is something I turn to now to try and save the person I used to be.