i look at you now objectively
and with a critical eye

a statue in the art museum of my heart.
              chiseled with sadness
              warped with never knowing anything but loose-end logic & promises                                 held up
high
like wire hangers in a dark closet      

i am the wailing wall of what was once terribly beautiful
              {a place where you saw through new eyes and pumped new blood,
              
               a place that desperate love was the architect of}
i am a remnant.

granite cheekbones and soapstone eyes unforgiving on mine as i ask:

               were you ever truly happy?