All That Remains

This one's about a girl.

To the woman, not of my dreams,
But of my sleepless, waking nights;
Victim of my darker angel,
Still, the treasure of my heart.
Flames and embers, now cold ashes,
Sleep on an endless field of ice,
Loving your voice, your tears, your smile,
Your kiss; waiting for summer.

Not awaiting: longing for,
And the pain itself is joy
Like the smile for a memory
Of a loved one in the grave.
If this really is as close
As I can get to holding you,
The summer and the sunset gone
Forever, still this is love.