I feel the beauty being drained out of you
climbing its way up the mountain
disappearing into the lenticular clouds above it
as if it were nothing to begin with
you have become dull and uninteresting
like everyone else around me
including myself

you are now as opaque as a blank wall
once was transparent like the waters of Bora
you were as warm as the summer rays on summer mornings
as cool as a breeze travelling at 10 knots in winter
you were the wind making the flowers in a flower field move to and fro
you were the halo surrounding the moon to which I stare deeply for hours
you were the reason to why I run out of cliches to use
you were the metaphors I failed to create
you brought me up to the tip of the tropopause
only to throw me down at a high rate of decsent

some things are just not meant to be
and you are it
for me