The Grieving Man
His hands were gently shaking
His mind empty of hope
His heart was slowly breaking,
Stretched like a tightrope.
She’d left early in the morning,
Said goodbye the night before;
He knew she wouldn’t be returning
When he watched her walk through that door.
Slowly, as the days passed,
His grief bloomed
Encircling him in a cloud of darkness
Protecting him, as he mused.
And so people watched
As the man withered,
Empty-soulled until
Only a shell remained
And so the man died
With nothing in his heart;
Nothing but a faded hope
That his life would fall apart.