stains of swallows and falling stars

Swift spinning swallows 
twist among swirling 
shooting stars 

painted
on the walls 
of her soft 
sinuous temple.  

Now blurred like faded graffiti 
on a crumbling city.  

She blew me one last kiss, 
as the sun struggled 
with its amber chains.

Dragging
the sun and myself
into the depths of darkness.

Steeping memories of those tattoos;
becoming stains

on the canvas 

of my heart.  

Her last words forever etched 

“I love you, 
  but I'm not...

  in love with you.” 

The conflict of understanding
wrenched my guileless heart.

Now decayed with years
my youthful ignorance 
disintegrated;

only to expose the truth,
in the meaning 
of her words.