You could call it Murder

The small splashes of water sprinkled her face,
the little laughter coming from friends surrounded her.
She tries to enjoy the warm sun rays touching her skin,
but she can't.

His face, his voice, his memory drowns her,
she suffocates in the feeling of love.
She wants him near her yet distance keeps them apart,
nothing could help them, nothing.

She laughs as everyone else does but she hides,
she holds in the pain that forever tortures her heart.
Down to the bone she feels hate for this world, one that so miserably separated her from her love.

She holds his blown kisses to her heart,
feeling the glow that he makes her feel when he speaks.
Loving someone this much would be a crime if only someone knew.
If only someone knew how she felt.

Murder, you would call it,
torturing of the soul.
the pain was like being drowned in blood,
your own, slowly eating away at your heart.

So much blood everywhere,
but not enough to keep you alive.
That was what it was like.
To have her heart ripped out.

All she needed was him, to hold, to kiss, to touch.
But like everyone else in the world.
she couldn't have everything.
He was her everything, but she couldn't have him.

So she still hides the pain of being empty,
but she never lets go of the little things that keep her alive.
At least she still had him to love,
to talk to at night.

But the problem was,
for how long?