The Incense of Forgetfulness  
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 Your visage defined my world.
 Your moods passing colored it.
 I was so into you, that there was no me.
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 Your dislikes by proxy mine.
 Your likes my love.
 Your desire my mission
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 You're leaving my bane.
 My bane, a world of pain.
 My pain, my world in a word.
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 I no longer have your visage  
 I no longer have your likes.
 I no long have your desire.
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What I want is an essence.
An essence of non-pain.
A mote of something, a possible scent.
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Give me something that will numb.
That will take the sharp edge off.
Something that will make me forget.
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End  
DS Baker

California is proof that Hell is full, and the Dead walk the streets.