Written by: Andy Sprouse

Burning tears force their way
out of my reddened eyes,
those portals to this aggrieved soul.

Without end they flow,
falling freely down to the ground,
on these steps where this
broken shell of a man lies,
leaking stray pain.

They leave their wet marks
on this cold concrete,
spots of damp presenting
short-lived evidence of my torment.

I thought I was over her,
over the memories,
over this.
And yet here I reside,
amid the reminiscences and revulsion,
crippled and lame.

What is there to do?
What remains, when what once was
your reason for being, your goal,
your whole life,
lies in peaceful bliss, miles away,
without you?

All I ever wanted,
all I ever needed,
all there ever was,
was so close, so tantalizingly near,
and then fled from my side
at the first sign of the storm,
ran when reality knocked at the door.

She made me feel whole.
Complete; alive; needed.
Then she walked out,
proved it all a lie.

I want these memories gone.
I want my happiness back.

What to do,
when you don't matter;
in her eyes or yours.