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Age should know better but it doesn’t –
Sometimes the vacuum of loss
Gobbles despair at breakfast, lunch and dinner,
But the wee small hours are the worst.

Smorgasbord feasts of depression
Prepared by what once was,
Seasoned with fears of what may never be,
With the kicker ingredient as loneliness

Withdrawal from heavy use of the drug – relationship –
Steals a person’s deepest soul,
Strips every vestige of self confidence down,
Until raw, frayed nerve endings lay exposed and defenseless

Vulnerability grows exponential in a diabolical twist
When gestalt feeble attempts to recover
Fall prey to fears and abject aloneness.
Good times become more painful than bad for their reminders of what life could be.

The deep-seated need for a life to share –
To share in soft companionship –
To smile and know another’s smile will return –
To simply touch a hand and know the intertwine of fingers without question

Life becomes a painful, exposed sore.
Hopelessness a daily diet that withers the heart –
Relegating single words the power to destroy or thrill –
Withholding all control over emotions starved to emaciation.

You stumble through lonely nights broken
On the heels of hope and progress
As you regress into hollow caricatures of who you are
For want of a morsel of life

There appears no hope for completion
No relief or rescue to this life
The lethal enemies of bitterness and surrender
Lay siege to the final encampment of what defines you

Yes life was not created for this torture
Ill equipped for the slaughter of love
Ill prepared for the inherent despondency
Destined to become love’s ultimate road kill

Nothing left but a whimper of will
Nothing left but a whimper of will
Nothing left but a whimper of will
To stand against the tsunami of loneliness