Wallowing 

A minute of your time please, if I may?
Soon March will turn to April, turn to May,
And then it will be far too late to say
That what I want is You, right here, today.
But you are gone, I know not where you are,
I seek you in the night amongst the stars,
So long it’s been since you were in my arms;
The space you left, an ever present harm.
I see you in my dreams, such tortured sleep!
Those bitter hours when I no longer weep,
But fall into a senseless state so deep,
That morning comes and goes without a peep.
 To wallow in the pity of my grief
 Is easier than finding self belief.

This is somewhat of a throwaway Sonnet which fell out as I was taking notes for something else. The rhyme scheme too simple but yet a reminder of repetitive days and nights, not changing for the better. 

This is the me that I try and fight every day. The one that greives for every relationship which has ended; who struggles to accept loss, who wants to write or message, to just take a moment of their time to say how much they are missed. -A-