Desperation is an ugly thing.
Loneliness more hideous still.
Maybe not for the reasons you think
But because it doesn't encapsulate some petty thrill.

We have countless numbers,
On themes of heartbreak.
Soulful notes ring
In commemoration of love lost.

And perhaps an even greater amount
Celebrate that love found.
And still there are more
Who sing of the time in between.

What happens after?
What happened before?
What joys happened during?
How did you give up ever loving more?

And in some clever twist of fate
We never considered the never case.

This ignorance that chokes you
From the inside out.
What someone's warm, vulnerable touch embodies
Is something we can only dream about.