She died childless [Unfinished.]

[This is a piece, with really bad rhythm, from a man's perspective, after his wife has committed suicide because she left it too late to have children. Sad story. But I'm writin' it anyway! VERY VERY rough and incomplete.]



Sitting alone in the same booth of the waffle house where you first laid eyes on me.
I’d say I’ve made a complete revolution,
But this was no act of symmetry.
9 hours, 11 stops, a box and a half of tissues.
I still can’t bring you back to me.

The icy, glacial wind pushed you inside that magical winter’s day,
Outside a homeless man was still convinced the end was nigh,
But the beginning was only just underway.
The same doorbell still rings high.
My whole world is in decay.

A brief hello, a few more waffles and we sat and watched the fast lane,
Everyone had sex, raised children and built houses as the years went along,
But we made love and flushed our babies down the drain.
Just us - reproduction seemed wrong.
I just want to see your face again.