I Can't Walk (Without My Legs)

It's hard to swallow, truth is.
It must be a defect.
I've thumbed this page a million times
but haven't flipped it yet.
A flaw in my persona drives my ignorance to reign.
I see it clear, now that you're gone:
All that is left is pain.

My hand to hold is now so cold and buried six feet deep.
I always had that hand to hold, it was my hand to keep.
Our matching rings mementos of the love and trust we were parts of.
One day you have the world, and more;
the next, you taste defeat.

With many years and wide-stretched smiles,
endless hopes and countless miles,
all I thought eternity would be
was us growing old peacefully.
I now define eternity to be
a constant state of misery
-- like learning how to walk again
when you, dear, were my legs.

Nobody ever told me how I'd feel when you were gone.
I know I should have prepared for this moment all along.
I didn't even think to think the pain would hurt so much, like this.
My muse in life-- my legs, my love--
forever gone in the abyss.

IdTakeABulletForYou