Not So Long Ago, at the Temple of Venus
We used to dance under ceilings painted like night skies,
worshipping opuses of your star rising. Now I sit alone
watching faded white paint chips fall from the ceiling
waiting to hear a gaudy groan from another old pipe or
the soulful moan of an ancient rotting floorboard while
you pace the halls searching for all the lost versions of
yourself. Don’t think that you will find any here. They
have all been hidden away. I see the way these vestiges
burn in your hands. Now they’re in the walls collecting
dust and dead spiders. Telling them how you lived. All
bright love. You burned like sun-fire. I built temples to
house all you were worth then waited at their altars just
to hear you say my name; sounds like sweet sacramental
But though you have lost the power to answer my prayers,
take my sacrifice. I’ll wait however long it may take for
you to rise again.
© Copyright 2016 mchl13. All rights reserved.
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