Sta.sh
Our love was like a rare incense:
For once, there was the spark of attraction
which brought forth the flame of love.
It held and caught, like the memories we shared,
but we had to extinguish it
before it consumed everything.
The scent, fragrant and beautiful,
lifted it's whispering wings to flight
to remind us the beauty of our coupling.
But eventually even the smoke faded,
as the last ashes of the years fell away
and left nothing behind but the charred stick and,
as always, the lingering smell of our love.
Like the rare incense, eloquent but brief,
the scent will never return.
Instead, it's lingering message remains,
written in stale smoke and ashes,
a reminder that the incense
had once burned.
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Sadness 
