Your scent,

is almost gone from my shirt.

The scent and its absence,

is like my love now absent from you.

I used to inhale those memories,

remembering your body against mine.

But no longer do I remember.

I’ve written so much and tried so hard,

with all these words being in vain.

You no longer love me,

and I no longer love you.

We’ve caused each other pain,

with some scars that can’t be erased.

And any unfinished thoughts,

are fully extinguished now.

We are fully extinguished.

Once a burning fire,

Is but a pile of saddened ashes.

(Grey, oh grey, how grey this life seems.)

No brightness or contrast indeed.

Oh how you and I are fully extinguished.

I’ve read that it could last,

but I read now:

“…This is the last pain

that she makes me suffer and these

the last verses I write for her.”

It is now that I realize,

this extinguished flame.

Inapt to ever come back.

Poor grey.

Grey ashes of a once lively flame,

rubbed out like a lively cigarette.

And we live no more, because

absence of love is an absence of life.

We befriend death.

A grey friend, with grey hands, someone—

That’s more grey than we are now.

More grey, than I will ever be.

What a memory, what a flame, and

what an absence of feeling,

That I have now obtained.

Grey.