This
isn't
how
things
should
go:

a slow exhaust
from the efforts
of holding on,

to existing outside
the pages of history.

For a simple wish
Count on something to perish
Nothing to cherish.

your smile, a spotlight carelessly blinding from a mile.
your hands, of warm summer —a soft paradise.
your cheeks, a little rosy when I speak.
your mind, complex as your words.
your eyes, a universe in demise.
your cry, harmonizing mine.
your lips, I left unkissed.

despite everything,
my memory of you,
is vividly fleeting,
as if you didn't.

Oh, how the sunset boasts
of beauty and majestic hues tinted
for which everything its finger touches
like a king, greater than Midas could ever be
boastful as it resurrects, humbly
opening another dawn.

And there lies the moon
settling between the brilliance
of the days to and had come, without
a shroud of pride - the sun's magnificence
shares half the credit to the lamp
which waits in the dark.