moving on

his footsteps are falling while he’s fading away.
each passing moment is another step he’ll take.
i can see his silver form slipping from its shape,
like clouds in the wind loosing delicate rains.

i can see him standing there, if only in my mind.
his phrases are delusions, like static in the wine.
a final failing record that’s spun too many times,
he is a broken melody, but he’s no longer mine.

i’ve trailed my fingers though time’s dripping sands.
the little rocky memories have stuck onto my hands.
i’ve tried to brush them off, but still they have remained
a gritty note-to-self like a formal reprimand.

once i knew his mouth in more way than one.
he’d tell me i was beautiful, and what we would become.
i’d watch his lips form the words, never disliking one,
but now he’s a distant dream, long overdone.

i’ve tried to move along so many times before.
he’s not a one way street, on which i cannot move forward.
but maybe, just this once, i’ve seen that there’s more
to life than looking back at the past’s locked door.

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