Within the floor-less room
Of a ceiling-less chamber
Spanning top to bottom
Lies a collection.
Each strand of memory
In tiny glass vials
Trapped forever
Sealed to perfection.

Within this glass palace
These tiny glass vials
Sorted and labelled
Into many a section.
The past, the present
The thoughts for the future
Accurately categorized
According to emotion.

Within each glass vial
A wisp of thought
A caress of experience
A whisper of recollection.
Once uncorked
The memory unleashed
Arising in full might
In every direction.

Within this door-less
Window-less chamber
Alas these memories
Are bound for protection.
Trapped forever
Rusting with time
Or remaining in grandeur
Without external intervention.

One seeks the pensieve
The key to this access
Oblivious to the trap
A pure addiction.
Alas the pensieve
Binds one further to the chamber
Away from reality
No resurrection.

Within the floor-less room
Of a ceiling-less chamber
Spanning top to bottom
Lies our collection.

I remember our first kiss
The taste of wine on your lips
The sweet goodbyes in the mist
The stain of lipstick in the winds

I remember our first dance
The slow swaying of the hips
The soft sigh of utter bliss
The lullabies that we miss

I remember our first day
The small stumbles and the trips
The squeals of laughter in the ships
The secret wishes on the wisps

I remember my first tear
The look of love on your face
The new emptiness in the space
The priest's last words and final grace