Last Rites
Time purees
And missing you
No longer holds a shape
\"No Vacancies\"
Screams the sign
No room at the inn
Another place, then
Another town
Your scent, your voice
Their colours fading slow
Softly slip their moorings
And are lost in the wind
The last outpost
The far-flung reaches
Where nothing echoes
And even your name
Melts in my mouth