often I feel be the numen of my window

get me a stage and burn me at stake

but wait, can I tear myself apart

one last time, you arrive, in your flesh and bones

still looking the same to me

I take a walk with you to the end of the road

in the garden of words and flowers of rhythm 

get on this rollercoaster, a journey of a lifetime

but the ashes and raindrops still look the same

sorrow looks in my eye and laughs

a mean laugh

sorrow takes over my mind

like an easy target

suddenly I don't remember you

I sit alone,

inanimate, yet bold;

ankle-deep in agony

suddenly

I don't remember you

but I still write about you

about your holy love

if I am a museum 

you are the Corinthian columns 

you are the artwork

and the great silence

the gentle whisper

suddenly

I don't remember you.