It hurts to have a piece of your heart torn out.
It beats on, but with an ache. A
nd we smile, but with a tear.
And we go on, but we are not the same.
Death changes us.
Things are different.
We have only memories now.
Illusions of what use to be real.
Years may dull the ache,
but it never goes away.
Because there is still a hole in our heart,
The piece of you that is gone.