Memories remain, but she does not.
She has a smile that is matched by no other, a laugh that one can't help but catch. Her eyes pierce my armour, her voice makes me yield. Her skin cries for me to touch it, yet I cannot, for what was once only mine has been taken away.
This lost love is worse than bereavement, for I know that she, to whom I gave my soul, wants it no more. She was my rock, my light; now she is my nemesis - unknowingly, taunting me from afar.
How much can one beg before all dignity is lost? How does one go on when everything was for her? Still I look for her when I wake; then I remember, and everything goes black. She leaves me with the memories of long summer days together, lazy Sunday mornings. What should I do now in the summer or on Sunday, or any other day?
I remember how she looked at me, the love we shared. When I close my eyes I can still feel her arms around me, her kisses on my skin. She says we are wrong together - I know that nothing else will ever be so right.
Where does despair end? 'Move on,' I am told, but how, when I have no wish to? Don't want to accept it, refuse to forget. Hazy thoughts of a future planned out, now torn to shreds. How can a future be planned if the centrepiece is gone? What about the dreams we harboured? With her I had all I ever needed, and now I have nothing but a deep aching.
Everything destroyed by a moment of anger, a misunderstanding, a circumstance all wrong. A moment of madness can finish everything.
I adore her, love her, am devoted to her, but she will not hear it. And so nothing remains of me but the shell of a woman who was once loved.