​When i close my eyes, i can still see it
In all it's glory; formerly;
Trying to save face
While running footsteps through the hall
Echo of laughter reminiscent of what it used to be
Adored
What we currently are
Alone
So much so that its become impossible to crack a smile
Without breaking through
To bone
Making no mention of the fact
That it's made stronger with every fracture
Filled fissure
Vilified, we figure
That love (a practice in dying art)
Former glory in relative size
Was never meant to fall apart

At least

Not right in front of my very eyes

Which i most certainly prefer to keep securely fastened to a field of
Comatose Dreams
Sunset IV's
Irate that their mere dilate might disrupt the delicate balance between
Star and stellar
Ceaselessly together
Always and forever
And filter and shatter what i wish i wouldn't remember

That even keeled true loved price not worth paying
That prayer for stray bullets seemingly worth saving

An irony of intention, fed of a womb
Chastity Preached
And no longer within
My penetrable reach

But i can still see it

Waning
In a supposedly deposed manner of guilt
And/or trust
Leaving the monuments I so passionately built
To sit here
And gather dust.