Fire consumed your letter,

Curling its soft words into ashes.

I gathered the soot and framed you

In a floating candle bowl.

Each morning I look at the grey water

And bury myself under the covers.

You held my hands the last time

I saw you, and said nothing.

I saw this coming. I saw the change

In your red lips, your hazel eyes.

Failure, fragrant as your musk, now drifts

Inside this room, this life.

I tried to save you through beautiful poems,

Beautiful paintings.

What will suffice when love dies?

Not even memories, not this time.