in the end

there is a loss that pulls at the heart -

an echoing of memories not made;

commonalities never to be discovered;

paths that will no longer be crossed.

it is a slow death -

the final breath of a candle's flame:

shimmering in a moment from light to dark,

till nothing remains but ash and smoke.

 
the lingering is the worst.

an empty pain of the might-have-been;

hands pressed against glass

looking within - ever without.

ties that bind are severed by

ragged edges of promises not kept.
in the end, only
vestiges of brilliance within the darkening shadows