The years are slowly taking their toll.
Another hour, another minute, another piece of my soul.
Drowning, fading, spiraling to death.
From the very first moment, you stole my breath.
Without you, all I can do is struggle for air,
And count the time until you once again are near.
How do I even begin to explain,
The way I need you like a desert rain?
How the longing for your presence grows steady and strong,
Crying out like the melody of a mournful song.
Crescendo imminent as it reaches its peak,
Over powering, all consuming, making me weak.
Bleeding inside because I am not whole,
Fractured pieces of a broken soul.
Missing the part of me that provides me with life,
Condemned to misery and strife.
Distance and time are twin blades, stabbing like knives.
Oh healer, you alone are the hope that revives.
About the Creator
Dee Meinville
"If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more."- Mr. Knightley, Austen's Emma
Struggling med student, tortured soul (what poetess isn't), devoutly Catholic. I write to express what goes unsaid and to stand for the voiceless.



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