I once found the bones of a crow.
I found another crow laying next to it,
Crying in agony.

It was dying,
Just as the one next to it had. 

It laid there screaming in pain.
It could not help itself,
and I could not help it either. 

I watched as the cries of the bird grew louder,
Until it could no longer scream,
And died.

I wondered why a crow would die next to another
That had been long gone,
Until the answer was obvious to me.

In our worst times, 
When we know not how to love
Anything more, 
We love the things we used to.

We fall in love with a breath of the past.
We adore what we no longer can be.