I saw her in statues,
a summit so high,
but all mountains crumble,
in pursuit of the sky.

She knew me as rumor,
ramshackle repose,
buried under the burden,
of dust and shadows.

I loved her in glances,  
from airplanes and cars,
on cold city nights,
spent searching for stars.

She found me unraveled,
in the ashes of art,
a child devoid of wonder,
a page torn apart.

I lost her some midnight,
in thin neon glow,
to a remaining reminder,
from late long ago.

She forgets me in pieces,
Past tense pinot noir,
a third second chance,
a well-faded scar.

I miss her as conflict,
weak in the cause,
an unfinished ending,
born of finality’s flaws.