before:
            my mind was a sanctuary,
                  decked out in ugly green carpet
                        with beautiful stained glass windows that
                              allowed the myriad of multicolored light in
                                   to dance among the wooden pews
                                          and to highlight the swaying dust
                                                that descended as the ***** thrummed
                                                      and voices were raised to sing out our hearts
                                                            in unison.
            I took your hand and drew you in with a smile
                  and a promise and we felt the warmth of the sunshine
                        and the peace of mind that accompanied
                              being with someone you trust.

      after:
           it's cold and damp and undisturbed
                 and you can hear water dripping in the distance.
     the carpet's faded and it smells of mold
           and the pews have long since weakened,
                 cracked, split, and crumpled to the ground.
     the dust no longer sways in rhythm with our breath
           and the windows shattered into billions of
                 glittering, dark, ugly jewels, long faded to dark reminders
                       of days that once were.
     the ***** was partially stolen and
           now you only see a few rusted pipes
                 hovering above the platform from the wall.
     your feet leave prints on the swampy mess
           that was once the floor the one time you take a peek in.
     I trace them with ***** hands after you leave,
           unable to believe someone even bothered to enter.

now I'm pulling back
      to the tattered place that used to glow
            to tuck my quiet misery into its bed.
and I hope (oh, how I hope)
      you can find me among the
            musty old wood and
                  once-bronze pipes
                        and shards of technicolor glass.
I'm hoping you'll come around again
      and relieve me of my misery for good.




                                                               (or maybe
                                                               you'll just help me move on
                                                               from the quiet misery that plagues my sleep,
                                                               my steps, my speech, my soul,
                                                               and find something else--
                                                               untouched, shimmering--
                                                               leaving some footprints of my own as I move towards
                                                               another place just as beautiful as the first
                                                               to house my thoughts and dreams anew.)