your shadow lingers
from time to time
you're especially apparent
in the twilight
when the sun is burnt
and the horizon blushes,
i think of your feather-soft hands,
how your promises once sounded
and all that blue in your closet.

by the morning
you've taken your things,
and disappeared into the ashes
without a trace,
i think of how we used to love,
like little children running down streets,
lacing our shoes and kissing our bruises,
and now we're too old for our bodies,
our souls are too weathered and battered
for such a thing.