It is a shadow
the taste of a kiss
the moonbeam
extinguished
before my hand can touch
its silvery warmth
it is hope that clings to the soul
and dries it out
it is the windows to the heart
and the locked doors of the future
the need to throw what I feel to Timbuktu
the need to mute my thoughts of you
and the love that was meant-to-be
and the reality that has
unfolded unfolded unfolded
till all that you became to me
is a flower
bare of petals
in my garden of memories.