Forgive me, **** castle of my longing,

for it seems that

I have to divorce you again.



Do not ask why it always

happens right after

Our honeymoon.



Or why we never really

bedded, despite all my efforts

to make our relationship work.



I might had said this before, but

your hallways always seem so distant to me,

your windows so open and so closed.



Your walls lock me in,

guiding me and restricting me

at the same time.



Often times, I take a wrong turn,

and I get lost in your many passages, only to

find my way out after countless hours

of trial and error.



My frustration builds for days on end,

and eventually, I leave.

Yet I always return.



I continue to be enthralled by your hypnotic beauty,  no matter

the number of mistresses I have been with.

Still, I treat you unfairly.



Your corridors fill with trash I sworn I already

cleaned up and sometimes

I forget to care.



I am a terrible excuse of a housekeeper,

I confess. I should hand the keys to kid Coby down the

block for at least he

polishes his childhood toys.



However,

even as I depart,

I selfishly cling on to your wasted love,

hopelessly waiting for the day when

I am capable

and experienced enough

to deserve your welcoming, faithful doors