The Point of Truth

I speak the first words that come into my lovelorn head, Perhaps less than impressive, yet built to cut dead, Like a veil, love withdrawn, as it blurs on my face, For your perfume was sweet, now there isn't a trace. How I wait for an hour with my eyes on the still door, And I wait for an hour then I wait for one more, Time it shifts on like mercury, no signs of you, Just the hollow illusions of all that I do. The world it gets crazy, it's hard to stay sane, With the falsehoods and half truths and heartache and pain, And living with lies, though a far cry from bliss, What point lives in truth when it hurts me like this? And in the missing of us, both the good and the bad, Glows the light of forgiveness and the passion we had And I long for your arms and I yearn for your kiss, For what point lives in truth when it hurts me like this?