The Days After

The days after
are somewhat of an ambiguity
I got all my cries out last night,
but I'm walking through a dormant storm-cloud,
like the quiet humility of the enorphin rush hasn't faded yet
And I'm wondering, with a mix of despair and morbid curiosity,
where time will take me now
Now that the image I had of the elation I felt lasting forever is gone,
it's hard to hope for anything else
I can sleep, and forever dream,
but to love again would be as to push my heart through the needle's eye.