Golden hours

Cursive letters printed in gold,

collecting dust thus shimmers in the glimmering sunset that was once ours.

Italicized words poured out from my soul,

written on the dusted paper I stare at for hours.

Sunsets die down,

weeks become months.

I loved you then and I love you now,

each and every day that passes a stronger love has grown.

When golden hour transpires once again,

my heart mourns the utmost tremendous love I have ever known.