walking through this neverending thicket,

thorns jabbing at my side,
cold, shimmering blade,
slicing emotions apart,

as she prepares once more,
to depart,

and settle in some corner of my manic mind,
shedding yesteryears moulting skin,

beating through the thicket,
feelings flailing, to mania akin,

while she leaves and buries herself deep,
in the convoluted recesses of my remaining senses,

having stormed the ramparts,
overrunning all defences,

so tell her I miss her,
and our moments shared,

and tell her that I am sorry,
I was cold.
I should have cared.