Maybe there will come a day when the hope and joy I feel when I look into her sweet brown eyes won’t be tempered by the fear that I won’t see them ever again. Not see them ever again in this state of mind. The state of mind in which I can see the them for what they are, in all their magnificance. Gateways to the soul of my lover and companion. And maybe I won’t fear that she’ll leave me, or worse, stay with me out of pity, when I can’t get out of bed because the world is black and without hope. When light turns to darnkess, when sweet turns to bitter... they always leave. They have to, and I don’t blame them. I only judge them on how they go about it. With dignity, or without.