The song unheard

Your heartlight half-lit,
 as the rusty old lantern hanging out on the porch.
Gasping for that last swallow of kerosene.
A hopeless effort in the wee hours of the morning, to flicker just a little longer,
to continue to dance under the twilight endlessly.
I slide into pity.
I have far more insight into singing the ballad that has no audience... far more insight than I care to.
What storms from within the centre of your heart have pulled you off course? Away from me
Once I sighed in warm confience, feeling each of our spirits moored securely to the tender fortitude of our love.
But now, where have you gone that you are so far? 
not able to hear the symphony of passion rising to serenade you form the depths of my soul.
It feels as though my longings may be anchored to futility.
How painful to tell a loving story, with nobody listening?...
Did it ever exist?
The only evidence of our love; eyes as red as burning embers,
dry and salty creases down my face where rivers of tears raged violently.
I may never sing again.