Alone.

My nervous hands keep slipping,
though my grip is surely tight.
When I should be feeling love,
I fear you've lost your sight;
My life, so blind, I follow
to help you find your way,
I place my hand upon your chest,
but your beats are not the same.
I don't recognize you anymore;
you seem broken yet unmoved,
It feels I can't make you happy,
to leave I must refuse.
So what to do while you are gone;
what will make my love come home?
Because until you fall again,
I am still Alone.
-misstatermarie