As I walked on the deserted street,
I couldn’t help but to feel alone.
As I looked around at my surroundings,
the night seemed to wrap itself around my body.

I glanced up at the glowing street light
which seemed to reveal some sign of hope.
But for some reason,
I couldn’t find that same feeling in my heart.

My day had been shattered
from the earlier events that had taken place.
My heart ached.

As I approached a nearby bench,
I contemplated whether or not to sit down.
I felt that if I were to sit,
the foundation would give way,
and crumble beneath me.

I kept moving;
hoping to reach my only place of comfort
sooner than what I would have, if I were to have sat on the unstable foundation.

I walked for ages it seemed.
I walked until my legs were throbbing.
I walked until my legs had dug themselves into the concrete.
I walked until my body quit for me.

I assured myself, that my house would soon be in sight.
But my body disagreed.
I lied down on the cold ground,
and I wept.

I wept until my head hurt.
I wept until my eyes became dry
from lack of tears.
I wept until it would have seemed like it had flooded,
to any passerby who didn’t share the same feeling I had in my heart.

My love was gone,
and I couldn’t change that.
I was beginning to believe,
that there, truly, was no hope.