After the Poetry?

After the love has gone all that's left is the poetry.

But what is left after the poetry has gone? Is it just the memories? Or the everyday reminders that have become routine? Driving along a certain piece of road perhaps, or something as simple as looking at the horizon out the kitchen window as I press the coffee pot plunger and wonder do you still think about me too.
At least the dreams have stopped. For ages I had a recurring dream of being in a cinema and you would walk past and just ignore me, the same way as you ignored me on the bridge one January afternoon. Sometimes I dreamt that we actually had a conversation, in a lab usually, solving a problem or in a canteen you'd smile sit down beside me and then......
Now all that is left is the memories. I spent years mourning your loss, I wonder was it the same for you too? Perhaps that's why you never replied to the emails I sent you at christmas or on your birthday. I always felt very down after sending one off to cyberspace. I'd frantically check my inbox 8 or 9 times a day for a few days, naively hoping for a reply. But there never was any replies. You blocked me on all social media, can't say I blame you, but I'm glad to see a photo of you wearing the Claddagh earrings a few years after we stopped talking. It gave me HOPE, perhaps there was still a slim chance that maybe some day you would get back to me.
This year I didn't send you any emails wishing you a happy christmas, or all the best in 2017. I can't do it  anymore. Instead when I went to feed the cattle on new year's eve I lit a candle for you in the HOPE that maybe soon you'll get back to me.

So I conclude, after the love has gone, the poetry exhausted and as the memories fade, HOPE is still there.

Little update; still dreaming about you, were you thinking about me?

http://www.dailymotion.com/video/xjdrlo_bob-dylan-johnny-cash-girl-from-the-north-countrywmv_music

I came across this last year and it reminded me of you, hope someone bought you a good coat for the winter.