Nothing staysI’ve come to understandthat even my slightest breath escapes- flying between leavesnothing staysthis will just end in piles of smokewith all my tears swimming on the floorthey are so delicate like a flower I keep wondering if they can swim?will they survive? like wet paint that never gets to dryso your footprints wash awaydragging our memories alongdon’t be sadI’ve heard we were one of the lucky onesthat’s how it was supposed to happenI, alone, writing poetry and painting your face in my mindand you happy with someone elsein some other placemaybe it was just not our timemaybe it never wasmaybe all you were supposed to dowas to make me into a poet.