She is not here, she is gone.
Just a mirage at the oasis for the lovesick.
Only a temporary delusion
That she ever could have existed in this world,
In my world.
In the barren desert of my heart.
In the endless silence
Between the heartbreaks
That in the infernal night
Wraps me tight within its arms.
Because I’m alone
For she is gone.
© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
Made of sticks and stones 