Without a soul

I think of life I think of death
They remind me both of her sweet breath
Her hands were warm but they've grown cold
She leaves me now as I grow old
I wish I could move on and start again
But she's more then love she's my best friend
Her lips were red and bright but now they're grey
Without her I lose count of night and day
When I die I'll die alone
My closest friend is his her gone soul
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Comments
This at least deserves a comment here I believe and to say thank you and enjoyed reading your forlorn words of tragic loss and a conclusion so equally despondent.
Thank you for sharing and hope this comment reaches you.