An unwritten life.

Fingers slip through open palms, while your scent lingers just...one...last...time...

Wisps of your essence fade like dew upon the last tulip in November.

Your smile is the sun my lady, and...fallen men, like me need the sun.

But, you set...

My pupils register your brilliance one last time.

Footsteps fall, and we hear the click as doors close.

Tangible love is lost.

We exit, but not the same direction this time.

I feel you fade...

You feel me fall...

Away we go to new beginnings and and unwritten life, yet to be told.