Artwork entitled, "Flames of Sadness", by Sabin Corneliu Buraga

What is there left to say,
when we've finally reached
this lonely and God-forsaken
place?

When the winds of hollow lives
echo in hearts haunted by thoughts
of what "should have been"
of what we've lost by allowing ourselves
to be tossed by the ill-fated draughts
that lead to shuddering and icy
lifetimes spent lost...and alone.

What can I say to you,
- the one who taught me what love
was supposed to be -
when now we're so far apart that
what was, is barely a memory,
and what should be is a torment to
the lives you and me
both should have chosen
when we had the chance to?

What led us here?

To this place that we now are,
where we can't even look each other
in the face?
To this place where we can't even
speak to the reality of
divine grace?

Where we can't even admit to each
other how our failures to rise above
have led only to a loss of trust and
the ultimate disgrace
of living lives in the shadow of
our fondest dreams?

We should have raised our voices
and made the hard choices
back when we had the chance to,
back when I'd've done anything
to be with you...

And now, here we are, with
nothing left to say,
aware that a love once thought supreme
has been reduced,
that a love once raised upon high
is now nothing but a collection
of poignant but otherwise mundane
sighs...

I'm sorry for us both.

And yet I'm loath to declare an end,
despite the ever-present judgment of
mortal sin that begins with the first thought
of our intimacy,
and despite the years and tears,
what led to this moment was
the fact that we listened and took heed
to our fears.