Traces of me

I find myself tracing syllables of you
again & again curious
at the glimmer of possibility
& why it seems so stunning
in the dark

I can't seem to look away

Yet, in the veil
of my captive eyes
lachrymose abundance
is a perennial tragedy
silver edged & tarnished

It tastes metallic on my tongue

& when love
has forsaken me
one last time
I will still be as foolish
as my hands are empty