Fading

I don't go much anymore
to the old places I went before
to the closed spaces and empty faces
like tile patterns of the floor.

I don't go much now to see
the way you used to look at me
needing nothing that replaces
blue ocean eyes and seagulls free.

And you don't think it's fair
that I have lost all my care
and have tossed out these embraces
that once held me tightly there.

It's all I can do to recall
you so big, me so small
dying buds in dried out vases
time will come, I won't go at all