Leftover

Bones jingle
in slim corners
Remember
talk of us often
Where is the Essence?

In a beloved photo
of long fish
and summer days
Frozen in a broken simile
surreal for all time

In a jeweled relic
reeking of forgotten cologne
and musty dreams

In me
seeding the memories
through the sorrow-clad genes
hollow with terminated intent

I am seeking
the wonder, the knowledge
with out the shadowed skin
of futile regret

Yet I cannot change
what must constantly change
and holding the remnants
leaves me lacking

like a fond dress
that will never be worn
again