In this sepulchre of sordid desire I rot,
sinking in obscure nostalgia,
waiting.

Lingering historic apparition, besetting me with
the echo of distant inexorable destinies, once intertwined.
You stir my soul. I close my eyes,
listening.

Through the seclusion of a dream arises a pathetic pathos.
The ephemeral vision of your frozen splendor moves me.
This is all it takes. A bittersweet smile transforms me,
remembering.

Your austere form marches to the scaffold, alone.
A river of blame and doubt streams through me, rejected.
forgiving.

I look down at my pale existence. The thin, yellow,
mildewed pages curl at the tips, scarred with the memory of you.
My soul expelled in ink; stricken, crossed, weighed down,
spent.

The past is diaphanous.
This is all. This is nothing.
Stop, look.
Live.