It Gets a Little Harder Every Day

So, today, boys and girls, I will treat you to a poem inspired by the tragic tale of two famous lovers, Helen of Troy and Prince Paris.

Walking past the bedroom we had once shared,
knowing that he is in the other,
hearing him creep past my door,
it gets a little harder every day.

Seeing your father, so withered and worn,
your mother, stooped and low,
your siblings, so many empty places,
it gets a little harder every day.

Seeing the towers,
taking in the grey and empty streets,
moving past the white stone walls that once housed you,
it gets a little harder every day.

Knowing that I have nothing left of you,
no helmet, nor an image of your face,
your image fading from my mind,
it gets a little harder every day.

Knowing that you went before me,
knowing that I can't be with you,
no longer am I able to embrace you,
it gets a little harder every day.

The pain will never fade,
your brother's wife is proof of that,
it will never lessen,
until I behold you again.

Waiting for me on the shores,
hair still golden, smile still bright,
untouched in your youth,
be patient, love, it will be just a little longer.

Be patient, love, I am coming.