He Speaks of His Loss of Desire

Often I feel that I have nothing to write about, especially in the summer, when my life becomes much more mundane and pleasant. When there is nothing that taxes your thinking too much, I feel that there's not too much to write about. Well, I decided to try that fancy thing called empathy, where you imagine what it would be like to be someone else. So, I tried to write as a jilted lover. I have no idea if it succeeded, but I'm content with the result.

These days move so slowly,

for they are spent in memory

of a time when life was lived

with you by my side.

I cannot walk these streets,

or read these words,

without this day being consumed

by a day already lived,

a day when I lived

for you,

by your leave.

But when my day ends

I find no rest,

for then I live in a world

where you still let me love

you. These dreams haunt me

yet how I wish they

would linger but a moment longer,

for each day is spent wishing

for the sweetness I have left

and can never find through seeking.