The hour has outlasted the moon
and now comes the sun to witness
the withering of my home,
slowly raising its head to a once
vigorous heart that is now wilting,
patiently waiting for another
drop of sour water.
Enter my beloved prodigal with
your thunderous sneaking,
lie next to me on the bed that has
lost all petals,
and cover me anew with your
sour water carrying yet another
My formerly valiant soul now
wounded to its very core,
begging to be freed at the cost
of the life of my home.
But rather than the truth,
I’ll allow once more my heart
to harness the sour water of
a comfortable lie.