Whistling through the willows of my senses
Winding along the pathways of my mind
like an infection, spreading from the gaping hole
that she had left behind.
Cascading through the cracks of thought,
diffusing like a noxious gas.
My mind it spins for evermore
in sorrow and in shame, alas.
Yet up from the quagmire of my misery
my reason takes hold of my thoughts.
Do not dwell on bad times past
or the rest of your life will count for naught.
These thoughts like the sun,, easing off the fog
allowing me to think at last.
You haven't beaten me with your hurtful curse.