How can we say goodbye

When you still hold

In your hand my heart

The distance does not lie:

We’ve been drifting apart

Yet even as I sleep

Your face in my mind

Hangs like a frame on a wall

Four corners of fiction

That encapsulate my soul

For no longer can we exist

Within margins so fragile

The timing was off and now

This love has become sterile

So look above and find

The writing engraved on the wall:

“A love that is sterile is not one

For which to fall”