She.

She’s gone.

Far from here.

And there’s nothing I can do about it. It leaves me writhing in pain sometimes. Crying and weeping until all hours of the morning, sprawled across a bed far too large to leave a person of my size feeling anything but alone in this world.

She’s not here anymore. She’s never coming back. Never coming back.

Sometimes it hits harder than other times.

Sometimes I don’t feel a thing.

But I always tell myself. Remind myself.

She’s not ever coming back to me.

I am the key to my own guidance, a follower of the darkness, there is no light to guide me.

Just my own night vision to see with.

Behind me follows my own creation, the one who depends on me.