I find you lingering about my thoughts more so then I'd like to verbally admit, like your fragmented essence upon the fabric with which my clothing is composed
like a puppy that strayed and lost the meaning of home I can not shake you, and on most days like that puppy I choose not to.
I feed your memory when it was better off starved, I cater to the past in the hopes of it mirroring the future.
I fell pray to your smile just as the creases and contours of your mouth fell victim to your cheek bones
you were once the most beautiful thing to have ever been caught within the spectrum of my gaze, until the water colors that defined you fled your skin giving way to clarity proving that the eyes are treacherous by nature.
And every night as the moon read bed time stories to sunlight I dreaded sleep, for know dream bore resemblance to my reality with you.
You who planted the seed we know as love and then neglected to tend the soil that harboured it once it bud,
leaving nothing but a mound of differed beauty in your wake.