crushed up
our love, a cloud in the air
like the death of a moth
crumpled in a child's palm,
all passion, all blood
turned to dust

in my heart an absence,
memories snatched;
little silk pieces strung like spider webs
across my chest:
amnesiac
you sob red rain
for love's lack, nothing left
except
that stabbing pain.

But in this bleary life there's billions
left to gain.