Kinda odd to post this here, but I think many would find some resonance in this poem...  first, a picture:

Lonely Regret - Jonathan Smith

My soul reaches out to touch
 But you're not found
Spirit cries out for you
 But hears no sound

You have turned
 I saw you walk away
For you I yearned
 But you faded to gray

I opened my heart to view
 Trembling to be laid bare
But no touch harsh or soft
 For you were not there

The pain in my breast
 A drum I could not deny
My agony open, exposed
 Were any to hear nearby

Why the abject misery?
 Why the torturous pain?
Why the senseless struggle?
 The sin-black stain.

Tis my own doing
 An inside job this time
I pushed, you left
 And the blame, wholly mine

And a song: