You fade away in shades of amber in my mind
Into oblivion, into the moon
Into my impotent silence that cannot fill your void
I'd bleed ink and write you into a poem, so that I can keep you, reread you when I long for you in this solitude that only I am willing to admit
But I refuse to do that, just as I refuse to reheat meals or to listen to the faint sound of seashells when I'm away from the sea
I'll just let you float in my unstable memories instead, impossible to capture like those piano tunes I could never get quite right
And have epiphanies of your lips, of your wrists whenever I smell your perfume on other men that will never mean as much
I'll let you be my madeleine, my french windows, my mythical journey, and bury you under the weight of the past