It is strange to think, not that long ago, she came upon me,
In a time of darkness.

The overcoming strength,
The cumbersome feeling,
It was a time of despair and yet, it was a comforting time.

She had been blessed upon me, deep in the mysterious shadow of the day.
The way she stared with those glowing eyes.
The way she smiled as I spoke.

She had fallen upon me in the midst of a dreary light.
The way she tapped her fingers in nervous anxiety.
The way she smiled at her feet under the slightest hint of a compliment.

In the waking hour of a dismal dawn, she had come to me, only offering my own sensation of happiness.
The way she could talk for hours.
The way she adjusted her glasses upon the bridge of her nose.

I was alone before I realized her presence, emanating from the dark side of the moon.
The way she squeezed my hand.
The way she pulled me close.

That time is long gone and her place in my heart has been reduced to a lower stature.
Her eyes no longer glow with passion.
Her heart no longer beats to my rhythm.

Is it possible to say she is lost? Her presence is rare and she’s now become a master at avoiding those who care.
She does not smile.
She does not speak.

She does not refrain from attacking my flaws, her barrage of criticisms coming at me like a hopeless banzai charge.
She does not laugh.
She does not care.

Very little now remains of who she once was. At a time she was a good friend but now she’s little more than a squabble in static silence.
She ignores my calls.
She rejects my invites.

It is strange to think, not that long ago, she came upon me,
but she now leaves her own trail of darkness.