This night is strange

I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be seeing, 
out past the brilliant fireballs 
that pass for stars these days.

The spot next to me is cold.
You were there, once,
but the night has replaced you.
Its stars are poor mimes, 
merely shadows of your soul.

I do not know you.
If you were to return,
to lay claim on your place,
I would not remember you.

The spot next to me burns.
When the heat left from your absence
began to chill, 
I created a fire
in the image of the stars
to warm me.

All I had left was hope,
and even that burned away with time.

I find my solitude in comfort.
To know that once,
I had known your mind, 
and to be reminded that now,
I have forgotten your face...
I feel regret --
I know guilt.