To know you caused your own greatest loss.
When seven score days are passed
and the hurt is no less sharp.
When seven score days are passed
and the shock is yet to lift.
When seven score days are passed,
yet still a pathetic cling to the hopeless.

In the leaving left a polaroid
of a place no longer existing.
Where a unity began,
from a smile that dawned such clarity of feeling,
from a smile that dawned such moments of bliss
(and with each appearance left me reeling).
The smiles are frozen forever in time,
but the love was to thaw.
These images, like those of Melkbos,
now seem to serve no more
than as momentos of a love now lost.

In the leaving left a void,
a depth of loss and a part removed.
A unity discarded and the one disowned.
Couldn't have asked for anything else,
but after side-by-side through so much
I thought our love meant more.

Undeserving of your love,
undeserving of such beauty.
A treasure-find taken for granted (of all things),
to know now that suffered loss is only as deserved.

When pressure blinds the heart and robs the soul;
the most bitter pill is to know
in it you've caused
to leave your life: an angel.

And now at seven-score,
and more days since I left your house
with two in tears and one in anguish,
I crave the courage once possessed,
as I felt when I first expressed to you my adoration.
As I felt when I first realised
I would do everything I could,
for as long as it took,
to have this one so special by my side.

I once had the courage to ask you into my life,
now the courage I need is to let you go.