Not like the gaping hole a blade might leave
Nor even close to wounds from rude gunfire
Yet hurt, I truly am, and I do grieve.
Her memory finds me when all is quiet
When life’s endless demands are held at bay
When I have shut my book, turned off the light
In predawn hours before the break of day
Her endless joy, her boundless zeal for life
Her wit, her charm, laughter; her need for mine
The way she fought against life’s pain and strife
And shared herself so freely for a time
Unsure of why or what for her I feel
The need for what she meant to me attacks
It’s true no less tonight my spirit reels
And once again I yearn to have her back
I thought that time would ease desire to slow
Yet by morn when I rise from bed again
I’ll wonder how she is, and want to know
I’ll miss her then, briefly, as if lost kin
Why does desire linger, remain so strong?
Why do feelings cling to and cleave so long?
She was, it’s true, only my online friend
But one I miss yet now, after the end.