amor tardius occidit
We should have
been so much
more.
Now we\'re just a torn
page
in a finished book.
The memories are
fading,
but the pain still lingers.
I still smell you on
my fingers.
I still taste you on
my tongue.
Love kills slowly;
a backward glance from
an invisible god.
I\'m a bird that sings,
but cannot fly.
I\'m the ticking of a
clock.
A rocking chair.
tick
tock...