Without You Poem by Sandra Osborne

How can I fathom it?
Death. Loss. Gone, forever. Forever, gone.
Pain so hard that screaming does not help,
Shaking and trembling with a hard, hollow, shaking aching.

Aching like an old oak creaking and breaking and crashing into the frozen icy creak.
Aching like an old dog rising for it's last drink, falling, moaning into the chilly water.
Aching like an ancient wound, festering green, gangrenous, pus filled, oozing pain.
Aching like being wrapped in sorrow; a gagging, suffocating, drowning sorrow.

Tired and drained, like sorrow stole the last breath from my soul.
Tired forever, like I'm free falling through sleepless chasms of pain.
Tired so tired. Afraid of tomorrow's angry reddening desolate dawn.
Tired like the Forlorn Hope. Struggling in the quicksand of an impossible reality.

My god, if only I could remember how to sleep,
Maybe I could forget the wakening horror.
If only I could sleep, I would sleep for a thousand years.
Yes, if only I could sleep, I would never wake up.
Yes, I would never wake up. If only, I could never wake up.

Maybe then, some peace would befall me.
Maybe then, some desperate, fleeting, cruel wistful peace would befall me.
Maybe then, some peace would embrace me for the briefest of moments.
A quiet, white, surrounding, still waters, moment.

Maybe then, the aching, trembling, plague of pain would cease.
Maybe then, I could forget. Maybe then I could sleep.
Maybe then, I would never wake up.
Maybe then, I would never be alone.
Maybe then, I would not have to be alive,
Without you.