edward palmquist


what’s left


What’s left is the first kiss
the warmth I still can feel.
What’s left is the outline of your smile
an image burned forever in my vision.
What’s left are the rays of sunlight
that once illuminated your face.
What’s left is the lingering tastes
that have all grown cold and bland.
What’s left is just a memory
of the place that we once shared.
What’s left are the words you whispered in my ear
as we said our final good-bye.
What’s left are the tear stains on my pillow
when I wake and you’re not there.
What’s left are these tattered pages
to which I so desperately cling.
What’s left is nothing much at all.

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