And what do we do with those once wished for
broken, battered, sparkling like a map of a thousand eyes tired,
judging, wary, weary, rusty fingers over aged broken doors,
pieces and pieces of you once wired

to be kept and wanted,
to be cherished and held,
gone before, gone today

where my briefest memories join the shadows
your face, your voice, the sound of your mind,

I once longed for, loved,
for the longest time that I thought would stretch farther than my strangest dreams

Vanishing as if we were never there,
as if I had never loved,
as if you never sought me,
as if we never were,
we never were,
we never...
never

Penned by my hand on the 11th of Lupar, in the year 953 AF.