Interlude

I can't write a poem
about this moment
For this moment is not
love or pain or hope

It won't create a memory
of hurricanes and rainbows
It's not worthy of colours,
or the power for storms

My heart's no longer breaking
but neither does it soar
There's no despair or tears,
nor smiles of blinding joy

I can't see clearly
when I'm not crying
over your absent touch,
or undressing my heart
for your innocent love

I can't write a poem
about this moment
Because it's already gone