For a lost love

This is for you, whose name I will not name.
But still your name for which my mornings sing.
In desolate times, windy places, colourless evenings
find me stricken numb with loneless.
And your loss I mourn.
Though in glass days, my love, I need not turn
to tell you of my ways.

Your words sound ever, but I not know, I doubt.
You are the clearest dream I've ever lived.
The lines upon your skin are not less near than my own flesh
You're still my dear before all others.
But now you've died a thousand times in me.
And memories are visits to your grave.
Forever beloved
Dead music.