Sometimes it's not the being alone that gets to you...
It's the infinite waiting.
It's the clock who seems to move his hands to his own time, and often to spite you.

Why do we choose this?
Do we choose this misguided fate, or just accept it?
...There is nothing more to do when one's heart is weak from loving.

There is no body to comfort me at night.
Just an ethereal voice who comes when I call.
If I were to smile - or cry - would this voice know?

Nobody knows the torture of an unsure mind like I do.
Nor the torture of the silent waiting.
It is said every lover feels alone in his love and pain - but mine, mine is unique.

Am I the first to feel so?
I am not the only one who greets each day with the hope that her loved one will return, but it feels as though I were.

I am a selfish lover, and where once I would train myself out of this, today I am proud.
There is no greater love than that which defies distance, time, and persuasion.

Sometimes it is no help to write and coax the pain from behind your eyes to dance afront them.
And so, I have not written.
For fear that he would read my fears and see a bleeding heart where it is just scratched,
I have not written.
For fear of him seeing me falter in weakness,
For fear of tricking him into guilt,
I have not written.

For fear,
For fear....
For fear of being alone.

I have always said that we are sent lessons.
I will yet conquer my greatest fear.
I will yet craft beauty from my heartache and confusion.
I will yet rise above everything you see written here,
Victorious,
To claim the only love I have ever really wanted
Because
He is Mine.

"Love of mine

This fortress in our hearts

Feels much weaker

Now we're apart"

Placebo