sweet nothings

invisible as a whisper

captured on the wind

ephemeral as the rose I pick

to show there is no end

to that which we can never see

of what is not and will not be

its presence like a sweet caress

its absence, broken glass

that cuts and stabs and penetrates

a throbbing, tortured mass

in hand, a comforting embrace

withdrawn, a cold and hostile place

alas, it’s just another word

meaningless and quite absurd

a poof of air, a wisp of smoke

a divinely tragi-comic joke

we’ll fade into the cosmic mist

and just like this, cease to exist.