Still

Still

Walking along that familiar beach,
feet in the familiar sand,
waves crashing on the familiar shore.
I'm alone now,
at home,
all the time it seems.
Even when you were away,
the house seemed far less lonely,
than the emptiness which grips it now.

I gaze upon the spot where we first made love,
in the dead of winter,
as the waves rolled their chilly foam over out naked bodies.
I never thought staring at that spot would ever make me sad,
but the tears began to stream down my face nonetheless.
Just being there made me hate myself,
what I was,
what I'd done to you.
I suppose when you destroy your own life,
self-hatred is natural.

I never stopped to think what it would do to you
I never stopped to think.
And now I stand here crippled by my own mistakes,
my own decisions,
my own selfish desires.
It's a terrible thing to want that which you gave away,
to have lost a game you should never have been playing in the first
place.
I loved you so much.
I didn't need the other girls,
I didn't need anything else,
I didn't even want anything else.
It just took until now to realize that.

And now I stand here,
completely alone.
Without love,
friendship,
any of the normal things that make people happy.
The guy who never needed anyone,
never needed help,
never needed friends.
The guy who would never settle,
never stay still,
now stands motionless on the beach of regret,
dwelling in self-pity.
The man who was above everyone else,
above emotion.
The man who would never cry,
even at his own mother's funeral,
now stands alone,
crying like the child that he is.

And now,
when I try to get my life back together,
try to dwell on the good in my life,
I realize that there is none.
You were the good in my life.
You were my light.
My sun during the day,
my moon at night.
My beacon in the darkness of the world.
But I was moving to fast to realize it.
Now, I stand alone,
motionless,
still.