The Pretense of Being Alive

At the whisper of drizzling rain you came,
lighting the evening lamp with trembling hands,
and when sorrow grew too heavy in your chest,
you fled—unable to bear its weight.

I wait and wait, but time won't pass,
the hurt won't heal, won't fade away,
I live in name alone, you see...
this breathing, this enduring—it's all just pretence.