Whiskey Sour

I am in mourning…

Not because a loved one passed on,

but because I have a hole inside of me,

that once gleamed like burnished silver,

with diamond insets catching the light,

of a newly awoken sun.

It burned like the molten core of the earth,

flowing in rivers of golden ecstasy,

Filling every crevice of my body,

with an inimitable warmth.

The glow of what used to be,

is now a pulsating ember,

flickering in and out of existence,

teasing the end with its stuttering thoughts,

praying it could hold on a little longer,

though fate is quick to smother hope.

What wasn’t meant to be,

mustn’t be.

And so I go on,

missing a piece,

wishing for peace,

drinking myself to sleep.