My Guy

I miss Harold.  It's been one year, one month, and twenty days since I held his hand for the last time.  My heart is just as empty today as it was then.  I feel like half of me went with him, the half of me that knew what it was to be happy, and now I just put on my mascara, and my lipstick, and my smile, and present my best face to the world, and it doesn't mean a thing.  Without Harold here it just doesn't mean anything.  I'm just killing time.