i remember when you would beg me to read to you
in the early hours of the morning
when conversation had kept us awake
i could tell you were smiling by the sound of your exhales
although my eyes never moved from the words on the page before me.
we would make love
until you were too tired to finish a whispered 'goodnight'
i would follow you into dreams
my last and first thoughts always of happiness

this was a long time ago
before i left you, before you left me

that's the thing with love;
it changes
it begins like a fire
embers and smoke
until it's Winter
you're alone
and the smell of ash is making you remember
everything you wish you could forget