A poem I wrote

I count the tears you make me cry. So far 1 hundred and 28 plus 1. I sit alone on my bed without you. Thinking of the time we spent together sharing laughs, smiles, tears. Now all I do is count
tears, write numbers, and cry. Without you I’m nothing. Barely enough energy to
get up in the morning, to depressed to eat, to alone to sleep. Well its almost
dark, candles almost dead and so I say again I count the tears you make me cry.
Now 2 hundred and 14 plus zero.