Gone

The time we shared here
is not etched on anything.
No stranger passing would notice
what is gone:

The joy, that once summed up
this place—
embodied in your person,
and dancing on your face,
and through our lives...

An "active" joy,
that drew all people to you
for a morsel of your warmth;
now gone completely
like some forgotten memory:

that changed a life,
or built a wall,
but "why", or "when",
can't be recalled.
Nor what is gone:

a history deleted...

And in the wake of
what once was;
strangled by the truths
of now—
the remnant still claims this space,
but cannot resurrect
this place.
For what made "it",
is what was you;
and without "you",
it has no meaning.

Sulking hearts,
devoid of dreaming.

Emptiness
just wastes
what's here.