What a Sick Soul

I woke up in the middle of the night, missing him. It was as though I was the world and he was the sun with the light that brought life, and without him nothing flourished. Without him I was alone. No one else bothered. No one else wanted to.

When I fell asleep it was to the thought of him; the thought of him returning. Ending this. The thought was unthinkable, unbearable. What would I do, being wanted again? Being loved again?

I no longer knew the answer to that. All I know is that when he left he took a part of this sick, sick soul.

And what a sick soul it is to miss something that is already gone.