You are gone from me

You live and

you breath the

air that I breath,

and I hear your voice

talking and saying words.


But you are gone from me,

you are almost absent,

and that is as certain as death;

and yet, still you live

and you breath

the air that I also breath.


How I wish that

you would go

and leave me to my peace;

how this desperate soul desires

that those eyes that follow me still,

would follow me desperately

with knowledge as much as love.


But your innocent torment

goes on and wets these

eyes with memories

of times and places,

and of things shared,

of what was and

what can never be again.


I am caught in

the silent torture,

and the unrelenting guilt,

of wanting you gone

but desperately wishing

to see you back again,

in this game of tug-of-war

where only I am tugging.


You live and you breath

and I hear your voice,

but nothing of us remains,

only remnants and fragments

from time to time,

from places we once knew,

and the rest is swept away

like dust on a windy day.


Now the passion

that was the grand fusion

that held us together

across the story

of our years,

is given feebly from

one side only,

for nothing can now

be reciprocated,

and sentiments

and whimsical moments

cannot be shared.


Yes, you live

and you breathe

and in my desperate love,

I wish that God,

if he really cares,

would come

and take that breath away.