I’ve traced the edges of the house,
we used to call our own,
with Himalayan rock salt,
and summoned up the sea.

While peering from the splintered steps,
watched for the ship of dreams,
an albatross, fell onto the roof,
a sign of death’s decree,

even though there was no hope,
I knew you wouldn’t come—
I waited every day and night,
until I was no longer young.

The midnight skies were starless,
never again did fill with clouds,
the North star would not shine again,
buried alongside Treasure Island.

It took me years to brush away
all the sands of time,
and when the porch was finally clean
I swallowed each tear of mine.

No more could I stand to hold
onto a barren frame,
I stripped our house of memories
and set her skin aflame.

Even from the afterlife,
I’m sure you heard our screams,
I hope its heaven that you’re in
for Hell I’ve come to see.