Your world is plunged in an eternal stagnant sunshine,
A bleak kind of brightness that feels cold on your skin.
The light casts shadows in the hollows in your chest.
(You now know how sharp a cavity's edge can be.)

The air vibrates with the inaudible hum of a lost lullaby,
A song that holds the ache of a dirge without a death.
It's in the silence of the old house full of memories,
In the suspended dust, shining like stars in the dawn.
(& under the scattered glow is a void physics can't explain.)

The walls hold years of disuse and a day of aches,
For the scent of simpler days, the scribbles on the wall,
For the lost days when exultation loved company.
There are old school promises of a night and forever,
A warm touch tracing a cross against your racing pulse.
(Relics of an era which's existence has been erased.)

The old clock in the living room ticks and it's all you hear.
Time should have crumbled your house of memories,
Before nostalgia could tease you into it's tricks of reminiscence.
You demons sunk their canines into the forbidden fruit, again,
Making you into falling in love with a irrecoverable dimension,
Again; and you were too always afraid to let it all go.
(Now you're too tired to keep holding on anymore.)