The Poem I Can Not Write

Helpless I watch the last of you and me Break apart like shingle beside the sea. I knew we would reach the crossroads, the end; The painful period we can not amend. Now that I think of me running around Times when my spirit soared sky-high, bliss-bound My eyes on the stars and on your sweet smile; The fool you always wanted to beguile. And when you smile and speak those lies to me, Too bad I was not wise enough to see That you are the flower too fair for touch. Though in retrospect, I had given much Somehow I know, as you walk out of sight; I know you are the poem I can not write.