That Love that Never Was

My quiet celebrations fall;
rain onto electric wire,
a gentle buzz;
Inspire a power ballad so tired of loves blossoming only to expire.

Find memories stuck to me
with worn pieces of scotch tape.
Draped with dust and slowly losing trust to attach another piercing piece just to sooth my lust.

Slowing with every name I have to remember.
Showing the fear that I carry through another December,
winter; beautiful but frail to a sun or even a stale warmth of springs dull heat.

I will wither, grow, bloom, and die again.

All without.