Simmering ash

David Gilmour-The Girl in the yellow dress

So in the end 

Maybe 

I was her everything
Or nothing

 All remaining
In the refuse
Simmering ash
That she fears to disturb

Not wanting to let it die
Or live
Just linger
Burn
Soft
But in its red glare
The memory can linger
If only a moment longer
For moments
Frozen
Are all she has left

Perhaps a laugh

Perhaps a sigh

One sip of the grey goose
To keep perfect the lie
Of a time
As her hand
With the fan
Softly sways

Lest her moves
Even reconcile
Disturb through movements unseen

Even an ash