HiveComb

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The inclement calendar that is stripping away
The leaves of time where love lived
It only leaves in my hands a memory, taking
What remains at the bottom of my empty soul.
I close my eyes and I let them come soaring back
Your kisses that a proof of passion ignited
But only the echo of your voice I hear
While age and the leaves of the calendar flee.
I'd like to stop the pain by unclenching
But all that's left is to evoke your countenance
And in my mute lament I'm wasting away.
From so much evoking, I can no longer speak calmly
Seeing how my love is slowly fading away
With all the pages of time running.