Voided beacon

A crack on the head

A fatal impact to my breath

Expressions of the void

To which I dare not tread

However within the void

There is a thunder strike -

A memory that never seems to fade

In the midst of growing mist

Coating the childhood fields I know

There is a glimmering beacon -

that forever seems to grow

Of the time Susan, my dear

You wrote me that letter

Of how you wished you were here

Bearing promises that I'd get better

Not once did I think you'd be one to leave

I always felt so safe

From the gentle ways in which you held me

A beacon of hope turned sour

Shrouded by cobwebs

Festering sentiment filled dust

Getting caught up in all of my longing and dead lust

So I pick up my pen

And to you I write my letter

"I promise you Susan,

Yesterday, the void was better."