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Selfishly Longing for Love
She remembered it all, everything about him. His smell, his sweet touch; the tenderness of his voice when he whispered goodnight, before laying his head to sleep. She could feel the warmth of his body, though he was no longer there. Her bed, still empty now, for over a year. I can still hear her crying, late into the night. Her heavy sobbing, and escapes for fresh air. I wish I could comfort her, and make her happy. I never know what to say when I see her, anymore. What do you say to the lover of one who has committed suicide? I shake my head, and try to remember the last time I was really in love. Never. So I could never help her, could I? I can't relate to her loss. I once thought I was in love. Than he fucked the first girl in sight, and left me for her. So no, I could never understand her pain, her agony for this man who took his life. I may never know what love is.
