What is Left by Austin

I've nothing more
with which to make you fall in love.
no things attached to memories
no words to make you laugh

I have given all there is
and it is tucked away
boxed and forgotten and you will not read it again
from the sublime season of our meeting
no souvenirs are left to give

now withered and displaced
squeezed tight for all there was -
a voice over the line
a troubled, troubling soul
running over recollections
of the happiest I'd been
hoping you were too -
is all I am

so little in my life, worth memory
what rare occurrences of joy I see
the beauty in these, fleeting, stays for me

but only me.

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