A Sunday so Long Ago

I felt as though I lost the better part of me
On a Sunday but so long ago.
An equation that refuses to compute
leaves me incomplete in form and emotion.

The timing would've been so right;
the defining moment came and went.
How I missed it, how I blew it
is still beyond all comprehension.
In my days, it haunts me to know
I could have prevented this cold mental state.
In my nights, all I do is pray
for the time I can keep my eyes open.

The tears that I cry when those flashbacks end
are masked by the irritation in my eyes;
when deep down, I know the truth:
that this was a foul-up of the most extreme.
Often, I envision that night
and the way is was meant to end.
But my eyelids raise, the water falls down the cheeks,
and cold reality dries the water away.

This statement of my address
only serves as a way to keep my sanity;
only here can I really answer the question
as to why I cry the tears I cry at times.
I hope that no man should experience this lapse,
and that I may break free... and soon.