The Immortal Bleed

You don't know it, but, Sometimes, I reach for my personal pen with hopes of writing a truth for the broken heart's mask of false smiles and lying indifference. It is here, within this vulnerability, I see an eye full of my own sorrow, and a suffer that fills my chest with the emptiness between blank pages. Should you now, or ever, personify this image within the sympathy of your thoughts... Or find empathy inside these bleeding words, At best, you shall know a mere whisper of the agony your absence brings to me. As this is an ache so arduous, so surreal, so unbearably abysmal, that even eternity lacks time enough to heal.