I pace only inwardly

The outer portrait of repose

Dignified, gleaming like white gold

and Sapphires

I am happy, I am safe, I am still,

My glittering, hard, polished-cloud tower stands yet

But demented vines grow in the greenhouse at its center

Rumbling, crumbling, creaking, stretching

Perhaps you can already see the cracks in the alabaster and plaster?

I amassed each word you ever spoke into volumes

and locked them away, but

Now I struggle to remember even a simple verse

from your lips

I know what the cure is; I am no fool

One lyric, and when I hear it, I am healed

But you do not call for me.

And I do not call for you.

It would not be as potent starting at my own hand

And I still have my pride