Love's Souvenir

Behold the gallery of love's souvenirs Behold the proof it wasn't just a dream My mind is a museum of things held dear My bones a mausoleum for my grief Somehow I lived a decade each passing year A child chasing love through high esteem No resting on my laurels, there's just die or win Sequestered in the dark, afraid to be So bury me There is no poetry In rotting away in bed Rotting in my regret I wish I know what came before these castle walls I wish I could remember how to be But in the winding darkness of those chasmal halls There's not a single echo left of me So bury me There is no poetry In rotting away in bed Rotting in my regret Define the line Where loathing and longing lie Where I flinch from touch Where I crave too much Paralysed in crumbling foundations Captured by ghosts of speculation Trapped in time, cadavers keep the score Ashamed in desperation In throes of trepidation A flight of preservation A blight upon my heart Love's souvenir Contritus es ultra determinatio Numquam satis erit Mundus melius sine Bury me There is no poetry In rotting away in bed Rotting in my regret Define the line Where loathing and longing lie Where I flinch from touch Where I crave too much