Missing What I Can.
I sit here alone.
Tears run down my face.
My personal river of sorrow.
My chest aches,
My mind runs in a milion directions.
I pray for an answer,
but of course I get none.
6 months you've been gone.
6 months I've been alone.
Each day I sit here.
So many holes in me I'm slowly wasting away to nothing.
Hoping that someday you'll be back.
That this was just a nightmare.
A terrible, terrible nightmare.
And it is.
But I'll never wake up.
It's unfair for me to want you back.
Not right for me to miss you.
For it isn't quiet possible,
to miss what you never had.
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