My world is so much lonelier without you… I don't trust as much, nor do I allow others the opportunity to, They don't know me, haven't taken the time to do so and that's fine with me.

You knew me, better than I know myself and I remember this so clearly, yet it took time, it took time to listen to me, talk with me, and look within my soul, exercise patience with my moods.

You did that for me and for that, I am eternally grateful, very appreciative and more patient with others.

I just haven't found anyone else like you and I don't think I ever will.

I've come to this time in my life where I cannot put into words the desire I have to hold you again.

I glance to my left and then to my right, but no one is there.
As I arch my back against time, I sense that I am alone.
You vanished from my life and my sight, but I can still feel you around me.
Can you hear me? Do you know what I am thinking? Will I ever see you again?
There are no answers given to these questions, only more questions to ask, It's as if someone has played a cruel joke on me.
Not having you here, by my side, on the other end of the phone, I am left without you.
Without the one person I would die for, breathe for, live for and everything in between.

It's simply unfair,
So very unfair that I have to continue in this world without you, that the trees still grow leaves, the flowers still bloom, that life continues.
There is nothing else for me to do, but continue to move, continue to live, continue…….

I felt you last night, in my dreams, in my arms, in my mind.
You were glowing, with a smile on your face and anticipation in your eyes.
You said Yes to me, when I asked you to stay and we both knew that it was all there was, All there was at that moment was You, and I.
I could've let go of life and continue with you, along your path, down your road, but I didn't, it didn't happen and I am still here, waiting, wondering, grieving…..

I don't know what else to do, What else is there for me to do?
Cry myself to sleep at night?
It is easy to do, easy to miss you.

I do, I do miss you, and everything in between. Everything, and yet I'd do it all over again, and again.

Copyright © 2003 Ritha Ramos. All rights reserved.

About the author: Freelance writer who lives in Los Angeles. Met my best friend and love of my life in 1993 and lost him in 2000 from a stroke.

My father, Harvey C. Casey, committed suicide on July 23, 2002 after a bout of depression. He was found down in the cow pasture he loved so much, his father's shotgun cradled in his arm. Always the strong defender and provider, my family was shocked and bewildered by his action—I miss him so much. My brother Tim, who actually saw the cow funeral a few days after Daddy died, was the inspiration for this poem.

My dear boy.
My love.
I live only to know that your eyes can see mine.
Don't you know that's the only reason I choose to stay stuck in this body that you love dearly?
This girl who would do anything to touch your lips.
You can't kill us both, Babe.
I live for you.
I live to see you handle our future kids and grandkids.
I live to sit by you and know that we need each other so much that we can't leave each other.
Hell. I even live for the arguments.
My dear boy.
I live to let you know my ears hear your mouth whisper and your body move.
I live to only be with you.
I love you.
You are the reason I can love.
You are the reason I'm madly in love.
You're the reason I don't look at anyone else in the least bit the way I look at you.
Don't leave me dammit.
Phillip, I love you too much to hear bad news.
I refuse to let you go. I am yours.

Copyright 2003 Alexis Hayward. All rights reserved.

I wrote this because of all the little kids who don't get a chance to live their life to the fullest.

Why does Daddy beat me
I am only 8, what could I have done
Why does Mommy not stop him
Does she care or is she too scared
Does Daddy hate me, what did I do
Every night Daddy goes out
Coming home so late
I try to hide but he always finds me
I see all this hate in his eyes
And all I can do is cry
As he beats me like I am his punching bag
But tonight Daddy seems very mad
And he don't stop hitting me
My breath starts to shorten
The lights start to fade
As I lay in this corner
Wondering what I did
I mean what can an 8-year-old do that is so bad
That would want to make her daddy beat her to death

Copyright © 2003 Jessica Cleneay. All rights reserved.

My wife is now dealing with her father's sudden death from a stroke at the age of 54. She was his little girl. My heart reaches out for her.

This poem was written for Brian Rhatigan who committed suicide 3/4/03. Brian was my sister's boyfriend and my dear friend and idol.

This is a poem written in memory of Justin Boos who was killed May 2003 in a motorcycle accident. Justin and I were friends for a long time and the word of his death came as a shock to me, because I had seen him just two hours before that.

This is a poem dedicated to a good friend of mine, Justin, who was killed 5/6/2003 in a motorcycle accident at the age of 18.

My son was killed in an automobile accident November 25, 2002. This poem reflect my moods at the loss of my son.