It's when the fire dies
and you look into the ashes,
that an aching loneliness
floods through your veins.
It's like moving from
those flaming autumn colours
into a barren winter.
But sitting back,
those ashes reflect
a lifetime of nights,
curled into each others frame,
the whispers of comfort
when you know
this is where you belong.
And as the ache pulses
with heightened intensity,
even then,
the corners of my mouth
can still see the dances
we shared in summers warmth.
There rests a small smile
within the deep recesses
of my mind,
but it's weighted down
with the memory of leaves,
where we strayed so long ago.
I have to move away,
but I can't.
The pain and the memories
are too intertwined
and the memories
are all I have left.
Adding your comment:
