I will not change
even when the glass shatters
and the ruby ink spills
on the cold marble floor
where you once stood
looking out the window
talking about dreams
to the setting sun
and the lonely moon
wishing night would never end
and the stars would never die
but that in itself was just a dream
that you conjured up
in this small room
with no windows
and no doors
just icy white floors
that burn the soles of your feet
when you stand
and rip the skin off your back
when you lie
down and dream
the same old dream
of you
standing here
looking at me
hating me
killing me.