She wonders aimlessly through the empty halls of her hollow home.
Tripping over her tattered dress, she refuses to let his soul rest.
Searching for something she knows she will never find.
Instead she rather hide in comfortable denial.
Every nite she cries by an empty bed, a place where her true love use to rest his head.
when she hears his voice calling her name, to her everything is the same.
He is not dead, nor an illusion in her head.
To those outside her world, she is a messed up, torn up girl.
But in his eyes he held her high.
To him she was a perfect soul, a love that would never grow old.
Now that he is gone, she feels no reason to hold on.
The grip of her weak soul is begging to let go.
Still she stumbles through the cold ,bitter nite , wishing for his return.
And that once again he will corress her face, and put everything back in to place.
Still he hasn't returned, yet her heart still pointlessly burns.
Till this day she waits beyond the rusted ,steal, cold gates, that separate her heart from his soul.
Watching,waiting,crying, and slowly dying , one tear at a time...
