My now empty life is wrapped up in one bare nail in the wall above my bed. That single nail held a picture of the love of my life as I held her on our wedding day. It had collected dust there for over 17 years. What have I done with the picture? Why didn't I take better care of it while it was at arms reach? Why do I see it's true value and miss it so much, now that it's gone? Where has it gone, and will it ever return? Will it ever hang on a nail again. Will another picture ever hang on it's nail? What pain in one simple nail? How will I ever sleep again, staring at one bare nail? The picture of that nail lingers even in my confused daze. What dreadful questions will tomorrow bring? Why do my darkest days always bring me back to this anonomous stage?