For the memory of love

The last time I saw her, I stood tall and played the role. The
great architects' post and lintel has fallen. It ended in Chicago
on the phone, and it took two years for my contempt to turn to
compassion. And with mascara tears, she cried "I will not survive
without you". I would like to think that everything is ok, that
it's not just broken wings beneath my heels. She needs more to
survive this memory of love. I need more to forget this memory
of love. Will it ever end? In life you have to choose your own
pain, especially when it comes to the memory of love.