I swear I could build a library.
Using the settled dust of our memories as a foundation.
I could build an archive.
Using cheat sheets I made, to guide me through asking you to marry me.
I could build a gallery of mirrors surrounding you.
And just pretend it was the same beautiful portrait from different vantage points.
I could do a lot if I wasn't sick.
If I wasn't so stuck on wishing I could go back.
I swear I could build a house-
And live alone there until I die.

But who would drink the coffee?-
And who would wake me up?
Who would listen to my every word-
And never interrupt.
It doesn't even matter-
How easy it could shatter.
But we still build them so she'll come.
And hope she never leaves.
But they always do.