temptation

As the night draws near and another day draws to a close, it is too easy for the mind to wander into the dark dusty corners of itself. The temptation to wonder, to analyse, to reanalyse, to relive, to reach out, to long for that comforting smell. It is nothing but a memory held together by what was once the association to happiness, love and everything sweet.

The temptation to wonder the outcome if we had done things differently, if we had been different people, at a different time. What if.

She grieves to have loved but never to have been loved. I have loved, and have been loved and then to watch it melt away in a flash. How much of it was real, I can't help but wonder. 

I will never have what they had that much is clear. The romantic exchange, the feeding of each other's hunger for more and the promise to continue to do so. Is this a sign of the end? A realisation of an end perhaps. What was lost cannot be regained. What was love is now nothing but a distant memory. The temptation to release the angry hungry tiger within is lurking in the periphery. To lash out and rip the souls from them empty hearts. To avenge hurt, the pain, the happiness, the blossoming love, the sins, the romance, the fights, the ups and the downs. To draw blood once again, a symbol of purging sorrows, a means to an end.

Is this the point of no return?