where there is no proof to behold
thy touches wouldn't be enough
where there is no heart to recall
thy being won't change the truth
that I carry within
thy hands won't take my rusted body
that I never was able to leave
I stay, gathering your memories
but they fade as I turn...
I hear, all of your whispers
but they become silence as i listen...
I dwell, imagining your face
but you always die as I breathe...
I leave, taking all of your signs
but they always hurt as i see
I won't paint..
as there is just one thing left for me...my tears...
© Thymournia, 2012