AMAR

It’s been seven years without your wit

instead many a candle I’ve lit;

gone is our laughter in a fit

and a time passed to happily sit.

With your twinkling eyes in decline

you ended it all at twenty nine;

no more hugs or Italian wine, 

only splendid memories of your shine.

I will not pretend, I refuse to conceal,

I’m still torn over this ordeal;

there’ll never be answers to reveal  

just open doors for me to heal.