Torture

Asleep at night, he imagines her scent,
His own guardian angel, heaven sent.
Until that day,
She ran away,
She had no idea, how much she meant.

Enduring each day in a wretched trance,
Wishing, once again, he’d asked her to dance.
To their favorite song,
That now doesn’t belong,
Each inch of him yearning for one more chance.

Burdened by grief so completely profound,
Internal laments silently resound.
Where she did go,
He’ll never know,
Into thin air, nevermore to be found.

“Though lovers be lost, love shall not.” ~ Dylan Thomas

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