If I have to ask, why does every memory sear my soul, Each echo of your laughter now a blade that cuts deeper than loss, A love once warm and radiant now reduced to ash and regret, Leaving me wandering a barren wasteland of relentless despair. My heart, a shattered relic of dreams and broken promises, Pulses in a rhythm of agony—each beat a painful reminder That even the gentlest touch has turned to a bitter, echoing void, Where every tear is a confession of the loneliness that consumes me.