All this was a charge. But did you complete it?

For we, where we feel, evaporate; oh we
breathe ourselves out and beyond; hot ember to ember
we yield a weakening scent. Someone may say to us:
"you get into my blood, the room, the spring
is full of you"... No use, he cannot hold us;
we vanish in him and around him. And those who are fair,
oh, who shall hold them back? Incessantly, semblance
rises up in their faces and goes. Like dew on spring grass
there lifts from us all that we are, as heat lifts
from a steaming dish. O smile, where are you going?
O upturned gaze:
new warm disappearing wave of the heart-
it grieves me: but we are this. The space
in which we have dissolved- does it taste of us?