A loss,
Like the stabbing of a knife,
Carves initials into my heart.
I cringe at this sharp pain,
This terrible ache.
Wiser men than I,
Say losing is better than naught,
But,
Oh,
My soul!
I feel it torn asunder,
The knife slipping from my heart.
An evil work,
This sense of loss.
Why didn't I eat the last cookie?
Now it is gone,
Forever.