My Dearest Gone

Looking upon the 12th hour, my sanity washes away once again. Her smile, though subtle, can drive an army to madness with love. Her voice, sweeter than a siren's song, can tear a mans heart out, without her lifting a finger. Her hair, flowing with the wind as though she were in water. Her name as sweet as fresh wine and honey, Aphrodite herself shows no comparison to her, for her name truly is Beauty. The midnight air creeps in, and the coolness reminds me, that I shall never hold her in my arms again. Her warmth is now a faded memory, and faded memories are all I have. The midnight air blows gently, and I swing, back and forth, back and forth, breathless.

Author's Note

I don not support acts of suicide in anyway, and though my writings do come from a personal place, I do not condone the act of suicide.