A Poem, I guess

The wind sings your name at night.

Teasing my heart with what's gone.

The shadows perform memories,

memories I replay as I lay wide awake.

Happiness was a fleeting taste on my tongue. 

One so sweet and delicious I crave all day.

Only has the memories of us come close,

but the ending of our story only went sour.

What I'd do to give the shadows more material,

the wind a new nickname to sing,

the taste of happiness to last centuries,

but the cold dark night pricks my skin.

We are incapable of change.

So the wind will only know three syllables

the shadow will repeat the same play.

And our sour ending, tainting my mouth forever.