Restless I return
Her perfume still lucid in the air

You'll find my ghost weeping over my corpse

Allowed to fade
Sunken remains

A poem written is abandoned
An unwritten poem lurks freely
Lifetimes away
And I wonder how many times
I have died and never come back to life since

But I remember something, as if it was something out of a bad dream or a dream gone bad, as things tend to over time.... Half remembered and ruined over time. In the fog I am sure the place seems as if it were a photograph fading into a Lily white, colourless void.