The cities that I built you
Have crumbled down beneath the sand.
The fortresses I've stormed through
Have been rebuilt from tiny shreds.
A fraction of my heart
Still gleams between your hands.
But, like a fire, is extinguished,
When you let the rain drench me again.
From galleys of your poison,
I see you switch positions.
My temple made from gratitude
Against your sly commission.
The cities are in ruin.
The fortresses have walls.
You pushed me to the ground again
When I only gave my all.
You'll find a new Olympus,
She'll pick up your slack.
I have built my own fortress.
And it is painted black.
YOU ARE READING
Gold
Poetrya poetry collection. "I still have my silver jewelry, but it doesn't go with anything I own."
