A year's gone by

Almost a year’s gone by
and I am yet,
against my will,
a shaken reed,
un-stilled
and ever drained,
and drear,
a hollowed thing,
laid sere and grieved and low
by unrelenting need.

I thought that I was stronger
for my years,
and that by now
I’d know relief
from emptiness
and grief
that’s centered in the loss of you..
But this, I see,
is such
a self-deceiving lie.