So I write on these pages waiting for your reply. But then, too late I remind myself that it can never be done. So I sit and wait for another day to see if you would come but you never came that day. Again I sit by the water to see your face once more but all I see is my reflection and ripples of the tears that drip into the lake. Apart of me tells myself that I should go, to face the truth, the fact that I can never hold you again. That your dead and there's nothing on this Earth that will, that can change that. That I missed the chance to be with you. The other...? Some part of me tells me that I should wait. He'll come back to me, I know he will. I can't let myself believe that, but deep down I fear that I have already done so. That it doesn't matter how many times I wait, no matter how many times I call. I can never be with you. And the thought of that kills me everyday and drains my soul. That I become more desperate with each passing day. The sad part is, that the pain can never kill me but how is it possible that I already feel dead?
