Gone

I'm afraid to lose my myriad memories

of you. Half asleep, I watched you

in darkness dressing to leave me.

Seeing you in the act of creation

like a vision. Fingers in tangled dark hair,

agonising over each wilful word.

Your eyes on me as I undressed,

smiling at some secret you hadn't shared

yet. Basking in your warming glow

like embers from a fraught fire long fizzled.

Your eyes radiantly aglow,

avoiding mine in case I saw into your soul.

Your head against my chest,

your struggle to let go,

your bravado concealing something I didn't yet know.

Your flowers, poems, wine, romance,

your words spoken in flirty French

I didn't understand. Too late to learn.

Too late to go back and live you once more.

I'm afraid to lose my myriad memories 

of you.