Of Her Times and Mine

She wept. And he stood. He ran. She left.

She lost her things. He lost his head. She sobbed hard, he blamed her instead.

The difficulties ebbed, the troubles stayed. Lets stick around, come what may.

Nights ago, they star gazed. They lay naked, amazed.

No magic cakes, no alcohol. Their times' gone; thrown away, it all.

Happiness, you elusive dream. All he does now is scream.

The soul's dead, he killed it. Life's empty, she filled it.

She is to blame, he will proclaim. She cares less, cause all's been a mess.

Hes knows. These are lies. She is great for his empty skies.

There is no fight, left in him. Empty, bereft, it all sinks in.

Hopelessness has its charm. No blame, no claim, no cause for harm.

Shoulders weak, heart aches. With every stumble that life takes.

Blame her, yes. It has its ease. She tries too hard to be pleased.

Things work out, they never will. His head asks, "Had your fill?"

He will smile once again. Love her, kiss her and not complain.

Synthesized joy. That's the ploy. Come join him and lets enjoy.