Even now I am tortured

Simply sediment,
Barely there.
So small are these pieces.
So precious and with care,
 I held them close.
Crushed and whole.
Though broken they made me whole.
 I think of them time….
to time. Rhythm and rhyme. More space comes between these things.. 
My thinking. Old pain rises with withered memory 
Weathered and waiting to be…
Remembered.
 I thought that once my love of you was just a young point of view,
 but if that love was ignorant of life then why faded, jaded and broken and dated, do i still feel them so alive.
I was dead when we met and dead when I left. I could not stay. I knew that much and if asked it would be wrong. At the time it was all I longed…
Now I could never think to do what I once foolishly 
believed in some small part of me you to. 
To my surprise it was not your love that bid me rise but that dove held so close that even you did not know. That little bird will someday leave. 
Already I feel myself revert 
A lifeless corpse who learnt so much
 from the only love they ever knew
A love so small only I could touch.

I hate and I love, you read to me. A most prized and foolish memory
to keep. 

Now I hate and I love. My love has turned to rot for all things do. It eats me until I am once more
one with the dirt under my floor. I wish I was so great
that I could over come a fate... I have been fighting
even before
I was delighting in 
your voice,
your eyes,
your mind.

I always hated that stupid poem. It was just to short.
Constantly, reminding me that so were we.