Love in Three Acts

Love in Three Acts
I.
Dogs with shrunken legs jingle on the sidewalk, rapid breathing oblivious to toxins we put here for him to inhale. We didn't mean to do it, of course. But the only thing I can think about is
"Where did I lose you?"
Where are your footsteps, less rapid than mine but reaching further into the future with each fall?
Where is that place I liked to go to, encased by the simplicity of notes pounding, resonating underneath your fingers?
"I don't know."
I want that again, so fleeting are my faculties to catalog new memories, because I just want to live in those moments that already existed prior to each passing second I breathe in the same air as dogs, cats, criminals.
We all share something (blood?) warm, subzero, pulsing, stagnant, racing, frozen, present, absent, and I can still see. My eyes still function to follow the fall of this pen, the traces of your footsteps that now just walk further away.

II.
I guess you could say I'm in mourning of something still alive but gone from myself. It's the demise of lessons learned in spite of everything I ever to wish to forget.
"Can I have a do-over?"
Because I've learned how to torture, forgot how to love.
I've entangled the best intentions of someone naive, unsuspecting, unspoiled, optimistic, into the twisted pockets of a former misery I'm slowly extracting myself from.
And he was willing, undeterred, because of some unexplained magnetism - love - he felt towards me.
Where did I learn all that?

III.
"I learned it from you."

FIN