Loss of Color

I bleed
to watch you go,
a stream of scarlet
reaching for you,
following your footsteps.

Kneeling,
I clutch, in ash-gray arms,
your portion of my myth-
begging, coaxing
the wilted remnant
home.

Did you know?
Did I hold a place
of honor?

-or did my gift
waste away
on some dark,
forgotten,
dusty
    shelf?