Breathless,
I lay upon these cold clouds.
Endless,
is the path i amble down.
Cutting,
has been done to the string that holds tight.
Apprehensive,
am I, through a many sleepless night.
Undergone,
have I might, my selfishness at risk.
Sickened,
but never cured, for there was no antidote of which i wist.
"Empty,"
said the heart, "am I, but shall I not be filled."
Obvious,
to both, t'was unintentioned, unwilled.
Fathomed,
did I, every thread of your soul.
Yearning,
am I, now it's taken its toll.
Outlawed,
the heart distressedly negates once more.
"Understood,
am I not." As it lay impaired on the floor.