Lacking Eloquence

I tried to write something eloquent.  I tried to make the simple complex.  I tried to make the ugly beautiful.  And still I stare at an empty page while I drown in emotion.

Do I write of the pain?  How I sat there tonight and for the first time, you didn't fall in across from me?

Do I write of the haunting space?  How you're in this town and yet, you feel so completely absent?

Do I write of the distance?  How there are 1,700 miles between me and a possible future I may never get the chance of taking?

Or do I write of the confusion that stirs when all of these problems slam into my heart at once?  How I miss you and want to know what I've done?  How I want to see you?  How I want to see him?  How I feel twisted for wanting you both?

The pain is physical.  An aching chest.  A shaking hand.  A pounding head.  A weak heart.

And still the page sits empty and still I sit alone and still he is not here and sill you're gone.