The Void

Anguish, depression, and loneliness stay near, Filling the void of the one I held dear. My hand is cold, it's in need of a mit, Or perhaps just the warmth of where her fingers once fit. There's a seat in the car directly next to me. Solely meant for her, but now just her memory. A barren place on the couch where we'd cuddle and view, Some terrible movies we'd sometimes kiss through. The absence in my arms she'd fill for hours at good-bye. Now left to hold the pain, at most, a pillow nearby. That void in my heart her love would once fill, Again just a void formed against my own will.