The Void
Anguish, depression, and loneliness stay near,
Filling the void of the one I held dear.
My hand is cold, it's in need of a mit,
Or perhaps just the warmth of where her fingers once fit.
There's a seat in the car directly next to me.
Solely meant for her, but now just her memory.
A barren place on the couch where we'd cuddle and view,
Some terrible movies we'd sometimes kiss through.
The absence in my arms she'd fill for hours at good-bye.
Now left to hold the pain, at most, a pillow nearby.
That void in my heart her love would once fill,
Again just a void formed against my own will.
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