The splendour of a tired mind,
As two bodies lay still, intertwined
The floor is a bed of mould,
The sky a ceiling that won’t hold
In all its potential malevolence
The bare bones of the building held elegance
Broken windows, shards of glass
Made this setting rather crass
Bodyless organs, sprawled so still
Next to you I feel the thrill
Of hating what I should love
Just like the up above
Abundant grace, this treasure holds
And when their eyes awake, it folds
Back to cardboard it erodes
Then of the body we dispose
One last wish, from that dead-end road
I kindly ask for its implode
So I may hold its rubble tight
And build my shelter for the night