The long kiss goodnight.

The realization jolts you like cold water on bare skin in December: she's never coming back. There lies the truth, naked, unadorned, ugly in white light.

The day you fell in love was your last happy day. You are destined to trudge through the remainder of your days without her. Say that again. Write that again. Without her.

The lone and level sands stretch far away.
I can see them, see them all:
days without number, undistinguished, gray, flat, atonal, featureless, smoothed edges.
Flat Xanax days without highs or lows.
Existence, but not happiness.
There are no more valleys.
There is just the long march toward nothingness.

This day, and tomorrow. Then there will be a next day. Then, I will wake up the following day. After that, I suppose there will be another day after that.

Loop until you die.

From now on I will spend every day until I die without her.

Without her.

Say that again.

How does one bear such pain? To have tasted heaven and then be consigned to hell. There are not enough tears to tell this story.

The rest of my days will taste like dry dusty paper.

Let the bones which thou hast broken cry out in pain. In sackcloth and ashes. I sit in the black ashes of our former love. Immolate me with fire, and I shall be clean; drown me, and I shall be more grateful than you could know.

Close your eyes one final time, and think of her. And regret your foolish ways until you see the light. The last thought may be of that first kiss you had. So sweet. Such torment.

You wish for a different past. A life with her caresses. But it was not to be.

That was someone else's life, not yours.

Now you know why men go mad.

Unendurable permanent pain: the brain was never designed to handle. Fingernails tear at scalp, tear at eyes. Make the memories go away.

I wish I'd never seen her face. I wish I'd never smelled her hair.

Forget. For get.
Embrace the light.
It's the only way to erase the pain.

Heaven was never your destiny.

Ah my Christ.