His guitar was given to silence, he could not play anymore, He wished not to live for a time, there was nothing to live for. Lost. Lost to him was the feeling that came with the heart, For no longer did he have the pieces. They were pulled so far apart.
His soul had not a spark anymore, the fire had lost its flame, He could not even cry even though her memory remained. Tears he had forbidden to cry, though her face was often in his thought, Her eyes and her smile waves of desire no longer tease and taunt.
They did, though. In the beginning, they would haunt him much, At night keeping him awake, just wishing for her soft touch. Hoping that one last time his lips could taste her kiss, And he could hold her again as they slept, oh she was missed.
Time had passed him by while he mourned the love of his life, Together forever she had told him the day she became his wife. What a falsehood that was, now that his life had been destroyed, Death had taken her away, and now his life was a deep, dark, void.
The demon cancer had come, and in her body it would reside, No peace, no rest, it tortured her, it grew and grew inside. He had to let her go though he wished he had her forever, He felt they had really not had enough years together.
© Cynthia Clark