ash and dust

the things we loved
and lost.
the things we never loved
but lost.
the things we loved only
once we lost.

so many things remain
but a memory of loss
through whose nostalgia
love finds its way.
achingly.

so many things carry
the sticky reminiscence
of what was once love
before loss settled on it.
casually.

and all we remembered
was the haze of a city smog.
and all we felt
was a wheezing allergy.
and all we did
was scrape and scrub
that putrid clamminess
from our hands.
(at least we tried.)

Life. Love. Loss.
Longing.
It is what it is.