State of Mourning

Willing yourself into hard acceptance

that it is not, and never will be again

Believing into the reality even

if it disagrees with your truth

I stare into the days of emptiness

hard willing myself into existence

I am awoken by a faint whisper

A goodbye at the door

A night well spent, or maybe not

I shroud the light drifting through my window

with a curtain of black

Waiting for a past night to return

Until then,

I am in a state of mourning

--S