Wish I could tell you I Love You, but you don’t exist.
In this time and realm, soldiers march on and the heart is left desolate.
Evidential cracks on the wall, traces of fire mark the carpet.
A broken geyser still leaks.
There’s no sign you ever existed yet the grass turns not green.
Infectious laughter, traces of us, remnants of pieces you left behind.
Waking up to blue skies but my day is grey,
Wondering how I will face their questions yet again of where you’ve gone to.
I too inquire self knowing it can never happen.
Is it possible we made a deliberate omission of truth so as to avoid August winds?
Will it help in anyway watering flowers and feign you?
This kingly mansion all donned in precious stones echoes a forlorn melody.
Windows to its precious treasure smeared in soot, curtains washed out.
Dung beetles wrestle their sustenance, perhaps there is life after all.
Though there may be life, can I still call it home?
Moss covered frames, faded pictures, memoirs of a sand stone vessel.