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Chris Costanza Chris Costanza
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August 6, 1945
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soul mates

There is no word,
No action or expression,
That can ever hope to define,
Such an all-consuming depression.

In this deep pain,
This unrelenting sorrow,
It takes an Iron Will,
just to face tomorrow.

As I piece together
What was my life,
Without you, clawing my neck
Are the icy hands of Strife.

In the end, I can only remember your name,
And eagerly await to see your smile.  
Until then my dear, relax, be free,
And rest awhile.

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