Memories of you:

Your memories they draw me in
their magnitude, their ebb, their flow
With one hand I hold on to them
While I try hard to let them go.

This earth I live my life upon
This life that I call mine
Are all captive in these evocations
written in books of time.

Foundations are left barren,
in naked cold despair,
amidst reminiscent echoes,
that’s draping its fissure.

So here I stand alone and lost
In my bitter retent of you
with only framed illusions that
these remnants are true.

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