I had a story,
I had a love.
Until we were hoary
I thought we’d fit
Like hand into glove.

I had a dream.
A lucky one.
I stuck to this scheme
And now I admit
The truth I did shun.

A drunkard’s life
Is a sharp blade.
A true drunkard’s wife
I would have become -
If I had stayed.

I had to leave.
Tore me in two.
What’s left now is grief.
Comfort? Give me some
By just being you!

- Stina B 
Brunn am Gebirge, Vienna, Austria.
http://www.bayerwerbung.at