Winged Mess

You left your memories in little trinkets,
Between diary pages
And in droplets
Of perspiration...

Your hand had never been hotter to hold.
But I could not let go.

I left my lies to settle like dust
On my heart.
As your fingertips traced the edge of black lace
On my hips,

I drowned.

You were a winged mess.
You left your memories everywhere.

How am I ever supposed to stop loving you?