Sour Grapes

Oh wait...I remember that smile.
Oh yeah, I see it. But I don't see her. Where did she go?
Is this the part where I panic? Yeah, I believe it is.
I'm walking past the mirror. No reflection!?
I rub my eyes and they start to water. Am I crying for you? Yeah, I believe so.
I'm squinting now. Nothing.
Hey, wait, I get it.
I'm invisible without you.
Yeah, so now my head is spinning.
The wind is blowing, outside. Storm, inside.
There is heat/sweat/panic/worry/pain/confusion/anger.
And so I eat grapes. For the fourth time. But they are sour. Like the realization of my mistake. The only difference is that unlike grapes, I can't count my mistakes.