Now that you're gone,
A memory now forgone,
I ask why do I cling,
And ponder why do I sing?
I realize that it was,
Truly, and simply because,
I thought you were "he"
Who was meant to match "me".
But I must digress,
Or perhaps it's confess,
That that hollow, empty shell,
That you had cast down to hell,
Was no more than a piece,
No more than release.
For now I can see,
That my soul is now free,
The old cast aside,
A change in the tide.
It's you I must thank,
'Twas your blade that had shanked,
That old, clingy self,
Put back on the shelf,
That old me now lays,
Awaiting the days,
That I shall decide to sing its requiem.

Penned by my hand on the 24th of Ero, in the year 515 AF.