The Remains

I covet lines from writers more poetic than I,
who put into words what I can’t seem to shake
Bits and pieces from them I borrow, never buy,
but few can describe what remains-
Recycled songs with reclaimed meanings,
an ache that pulses through all of my being
A fragile heart broken by silent goodbyes,
but it was your memory that I clung to, and now it has died
So I bury you among them with a sign on your grave,
”Gone but not forgotten, in case you come back some day”