Boomerang?

Boomerang?

Ninety days and
Nothing.
No words.
No signs.
Nothing.

Ninety twilights and
emotions fade.
Newspapers left
too long in the sun
lose their ink.
Well crafted words
and phrases fade to
Nothing.

Ninety midnights and
a vanishing act.
A glittery girl
in a magician's box.
You climbed inside
and, you too became
Nothing.

Ninety dawns and
dissolution.
Sugar tumbles
into my coffee.
Whisk the spoon,
and it dissipates into
Nothing.

Ninety-one dusks and
an inverted world.
A balmy retreat
or wavering mirage?
It could be Utopia,
but might be
Nothing.

Ninety-first daybreak
confuses my senses.
Ash-risen,
a splendid phoenix,
or choking gray
tendrils of smoke.
Either could drift
away through the sky
and leave me with
Nothing.

Ninety-one days and
one cannot tell.
For where you are concerned,
I understand
Nothing.