It’s hard to want you,
To not seek and search for you,
Our interconnectivity makes it hard to break free,
Its harder still when I feel I need you,
I yearn for your responses and parts,
Your wise lines,
Your advice.
But I’m slowly getting better,
Though times make it difficult,
To need your advice yet not call to you.

It’s small I’m sure,
But to a voided being it means a whole heap more.

For I wiped you as a contact,
But like the memories your number remains in tact.

It’s only been five days and already I am a slave,
to counting and wondering on the multitude of ways,
Can or will we ever integrate our broken selves,
Will the smallest of our daily thoughts ever be shared once more?
Would we ever find paths to each others doors?
My gut sinks because for once I am not sure,
My mind and soul is full of punctured holes.
You once bemoaned my surity,
The one I was left to keep aflame for both of us to feast,
To allow such wholesome love to never dwindle never fall short,
But I never banked on a harsh shearing scythe,
To cleave us through while we refrained from any fight.

I don’t think I’ll ever solve this problem,
Or run out of imaginary solutions,
I’ll keep searching,
I’ll wonder if your hurting,
I’ll network with new contacts,
I’ll pray that you have much to combat,
Or nothing it all depends on how I reflect,
Or how much I regret.
But most of all I’ll wait for this old heart mine to refresh.