Love is so easy to let in,but almost impossibe to let out, and each night the lonliness creeps back in...When I stare at the empty bed she no longer graces. There's simply nothing else there at two in the morning, just the dark, the bed and I.

It's the deepening silence I feel each day when I walk in and put down my keys, there used to be a purpose, now it's an endless repition of the mundane.
I write these words as if they mean something, as if I could put each thought and memory down as they occured, yet they just don't convey what I see.

I feel madness creeping in, though I tried to close the doors. I shut all the windows, yet rather than keep the anguish out, I locked my demons in.

Some days I'm almost at peace, surrendering to what seems the inevitable, that all I want simply will not be, and that one day it will all be over, but what is life without hope? Is this already a living death where I am simply standing outside of my tomb beginning to decay?
I have no answers, clear direction, I just keep praying that I'll run into someone while shopping for catfood and that will be it, just like in the movies...

But this isn't the movies, is it?