Three hundred and seventy-three days
And mere few hours ago
I had shed that first tear.
I hadn't meant to let her go.
She just chose to leave me alone,
Promising to take away a little of my melancholy with her.
She had lied.
But she did lovingly graze my cheek,
And give me a fleeting peck on my chin
Before she left me
In the company of my loneliness.
There were many that followed -
Each making the same promise,
And breaking it more mercilessly every time
Duping me, and then mocking at me
While the hurt fails to dissipate in the emptiness
And the madness finds fertile pain to grow on