I went brick by brick to keep out the demons
but you tore them all down.

Walls aren't demolished for just anything,
and you plucked them all by hand,
one by one til we could press our hands together
and touch at the tips of our
breath.

Every time I visited you, I tried to count the windows.
You never let me finish.
I never got to start.

So maybe I expected a bit more from being exposed, some kind of compensation,
maybe I haven't got a right to be angry
( I'm not, but do I have the right? ).

Maybe I just want to see you as more than what you do.