So many strips of life torn to pieces by time.
The absence of the loved ones. Her absence.
Distance as a recurring point of internal division.
Unchallenged unsatisfaction.
Sweet memory bliss, moments of joy.
Her smile, her hand, her smell.
That very dark hair of hers, shaken by the wind.
The beauty of existence itself.
She was all that to Redrose and more.
The meaning of it all.
That distant love feeling fades away.
The need to let go takes over.
And the fatal conclusion follows.
Tears can't explain. Tears won't explain.
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