Lost

As far as will was urged, he couldn't push away the dreams that taunted him, every time he closed his eyes. In simple fact, he just couldn't put her a vast distance away from him. He never had to dwell with such want, as he was experiencing at that moment, with any sort of past lovers. He simply played the rest of them, as easy as the alphabets, herein after, he never had to look back if he didn't want to.
He knew the circumstances, but he had to try, or he will never hear of peace, at least not till the end of forever.

"Be to her, Persephone,

All the things I might not be;

Take her head upon your knee.

She that was so proud and wild,

Flippant, arrogant and free,

She that had no need of me,

Is a little lonely child

Lost in Hell,-Persephone,

Take her head upon your knee;

Say to her, "My dear, my dear,

It is not so dreadful here."

― Edna St. Vincent Millay