The half-lived life.

I imagine how tasteless life would be. To live and conjugate singularly. I would have to bear the clouds on myhead. No stranger,foe nor friend to clear the air. I wear my pity most times every day. I hate to live because I am afriad. I do little of what I love doing. Without him or it, I should not begin. When next I get a chance to live again, I would not shudder at tomorrow's rain. It would be like we never were apart. Like the sun never stopped to shine, Like the clouds never left the sky. Like all we ever do will always last.