This poem is our story. Or is it our story?
My soul is at peace with having lost her.
Outside the rain falls, the leaves scatter in the wind,
And I dream of the kisses I could not have.

Another life. Life on an island, in the sun,
Where wine and music sharpen the senses.
Maybe I could have loved her there? Dancing,
The warm sun caressing her body like secret hands.

How could I not love her? But I know I don't love her.
I feel the distance increasing as her ship pulls away,
And the bars reappear and the island becomes a cage.
The horizon is clear; she is gone, and I feel the beauty in sadness.