He held the hand of dying dreams
Watched life slowly slip away
He kissed the cold cheek of love
After final good-byes had been said

He walked through a busy room
Not seeing anyone else at all
Out to a car that felt too big
To drive back to an empty home

He heated a meal kindly made
And pushed it around uneaten
The seat across from him
Looking strange and hollow

He told himself things he had heard
“You’ll be okay, you’ll make it”
But he hated each word he spoke
They were lies, and he knew it

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