A hunger burns within my heart.
A void desiring fill.
That which was, is gone again; forever?
A hollow place.
Without the hope?
Of ever to get her back.
A burn of fear.
That love is gone.
From one who loves to love her.
It is the truth.
It happens April 3rd.
A part will flare, and die that day.
Must I love?
What I cannot have?
Is this my penance for happiness?
An ache that is numb.
Pain that leaves no trace.
Fake it forever, to get through life.
I know I will cry.
Today, no; I hold the line I drew.
Honour kept is honour earned.
It gives but cold support.
When love and honour do not synch.
A loss must then occur. My Marion.
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