It's like looking for you
through our secret window,
But you're not there.
I put my hand on the pane,
my eyes strain for an impossible glimpse,
but my world is shattered
when I realize that you're not there.
A million brilliant sparkles glare red
as my hand oozes blood and registers pain.
I stare at it and remember when
I held your hand in mine
and I kissed it, trying to heal your past.
I remember looking up and seeing your eyes,
gazing at me, wondering, maybe knowing what I thought.
I only wish you knew what I'm thinking now,
my dry eyes still refuse to cry for you
saved only for death, dying, and reuniting.
Maybe I'll never cry again,
Because you're not here.
It has personal meaning. Critique welcomed though.
~Yoha
