Would that I could love you again.
Comparable to the moment we traded glances.

Ever knowledgeable to know,
that wishing cannot save me now.
Just like it never had.

Harder still,
to bear the weight of letting go.

Wanting all I can with both hands.
Like grasping smoke to a similar consequence.

The rest will be of ash and dust;
I will breathe nothing so lovely again.