Remembering old midnights

                             
                          Remebering Old Midnights

    Church bells ring out in the middle of the night. Its midnight, I think to myself. Never has a midnight felt so lonely. Without her next to me my body is cold, empty. Life becomes dull, repetitive. This room shrinks more every minute. The small fights, the moments of passion that all took place here, strangle me. Demons and ghosts of our past feelings attack me perpetually. Mournful tears well in my eyes and roll down my face, leaving wet spots of guilt and anger. Anger at myself, at god, at you…

                             I can’t do this alone. Why did you make me?