When there is nothing left

When there is nothing left of you

but fading memories and a velvet bowtie,

I wonder who that person was

with a charm which roused my heart;

warming it with one lung

and cooling it with the other.

Who gave and took back

the giddy beat of its song,

who parachuted in

and was airlifted out,

whose loving ambition

was aborted, with my hope

and whose lips kissed mine

so tenderly,

then did not.

That stranger who enchanted me

with a spell he could not break,

appearing unexpectedly,

expressing love he could not fake.

Who was that man with a soft deep voice

wooing and courting me,

with champagne, kisses,

and message after message?

That man, who stole my passion,

pocketing it on his way out.

Who lifted me high above the ground

then let go his grip, and fled

before my china body had the chance

not to break.