Author Information
The Pain of Hollowness
I fight the darkness of my days with the last bit of will I can muster. The thought of sleep is to behold the terrors in my dreams. The glimpses of her image that rack my unconscious journey through the night are torture to my soul. It is as if my heart was a precious stone shattered, never to reform or retain its shine.
I suffer every day and night due to the memories of her satin pink lips, her creamy skin, and the smell of an exoctic flower one can't quite describe. Is it wrong to have a fools hope that ill hold her once more?
In the place of my heart there will forever be a hollow void.
