The Dust of Love

Those golden days are gone..
and only dust in the air remains
of that love ever so haunting
and passionately insane.

There are so many things...
that words can never express.
And you will never read this
so I write about this pain in vain.

I know things will never be the same.
I never doubted that. No.
And I won't feel ashamed
even if I'm the one to blame.

For you, indeed, worshipped me
like a queen of the world.
You glorified me
in a romantic, deep whirl.

Shall I call this..
the dust of love?
This empty feeling
when we cannot touch.

Or should I call this..
a good memory?
Of nights spent together
in each other's arms.

I do not know..
I will not investigate.
For all I know
is what we shared.

I will not pick flowers now
to wear them in my hair.
I have noone to pose for
but emptiness itself.

I cannot hug you
whenever I want to.
Or kiss you
to feel your warmth.

I cannot run
hoping that you will embrace me.
Or pretend to fall
only to land in your arms.

I shall dream no more.
For I know.. I know!
That you will no longer be here.
For no longer..

can we share.