Even this has passed,

But all too soon.

It has left yet

Is not forgotten.

It remains in touches

Scents and feelings,

In bright white smiles

Hiding the truth.

Soft kisses smother the sadness for

What could have been.

And so it has become only a tool

To be used, a means to an end.

 

Now it is nothing more than a silence to be heard, and

A touch to be remembered.

  

Advertisements