stopping sundowns

I wish the death of a dream were more like a setting sun Falling behind some horizon With the knowing it will rise again But they aren't like that, are they? Often we bury them, pretending to forget them in time But they come up Choking on remembrance, the further we drift away A slow dance with pain "If only" we whisper just before sorrow and longing settle in Why can't we just let them die? Kill them even, violently So that we no longer mourn something that's fading away