His soul was lost and tattered on the holidays. That is when he missed her the most.

She cut a swath as expansive as a great sea in his soul like that of a great scythe.

She left his heart as empty as a desolate house on an abandon dirt road. The shutters clunk on the sides of the house with the gusts of wind. Those gusts of wind were produced by her voice that is played over and over in his memories.

Her eyes dug deep into his psyche. Drilling deep with the vengeance of a massive reflection from the not so distant moon hanging low on a fall night.

Her hair flowed freely as a mane of a great lion patrolling the jungle.

It was during these times he missed her the most. The holidays she would be with her family sharing all the joys of the season—swapping tales and laughter while taking in the goodies that accompany them.

He would be in silent discomfort with his own crowd. He could be surrounded by the world’s masses; yet without her by his side he was a lost as a skipper’s mate wrecked on a deserted isle.

The ambers of passions burn deeply in his heart. Each heart beat taunts him on how long can he possibly continue? That are the way holidays went for him these days—and all days to come.