I dream of you-your face,your smile, how I cherished it
how it made my soul feel alive, even in the worst of times
and then I realize you are gone-never NEVER do I have
the slightest hope of seeing you, touching you again.
I wonder how many times I can die-drowning in this pain?
And I dream of those still here, yet so far away
wonder if I have any more chance of touching them, loving them
than I do those who lie among the flowers on the hill…
Hope-sometimes it dies because life has stolen it
and you don’t know why or how to fix it, even though it could be- somehow
and sometimes it dies when hearts stops beating.
There is no breath, no life, what was is frozen in time,
all that is left is night, darkness, dreams…
I wonder, here, alone in the cold and darkness…
which is worse, the death of hope or the death of life
or is there really any difference?