Delicate apprehension

Is it but an impossible flower

this feeling of softness

within me?

Is it nothing

but a scent of remembrance

of your closeness

of your warmth?

Is this cloudburst of tears

nothing but an apparition

swimming through my heart?

Are the candles wavering

because you left a part of you

here, for me to feel?

These dreams and silences

lost moments and remembered smiles

reside upon the crumbling memory

of time spent, loving you

as we walked in the delicate apprehension

of not knowing if those moments

would be, lost

… and yet the moon

reflects itself

upon the memory of your eyes …