Relapse

Which way would she prefer,
An avenue to my asylum,
Dire diseases detected in my heart,
After all the appraisals,
Her answers never arrived anyway,
Swaying away so silently to serenity.
Darkest these days have been despite,
Sunrays seeping into this sanctum,
Where my wane existence worships my sins,
The sin of falling swiftly into the surreal seams,
That bound the beauty of this benignant being,
Perplexing me into the past and present like Michelangelo's paintings,
Naive nostalgia believes she is near,
Growing gradually into a grapevine of gloom,
Her absence accumulates to abrade me to ashes,
Flying fervently to fade into her memories,
Memories that make a mere mortal taste divinity.
Chased till being captured and chained in a desolate cage.
Treading terribly on these tenacious tantrums,
Her voice spewed on the spiral stairway of my desire,
Brewing my banishment as I lay betraying my bashed conscious,
For her to lend me love I longed for all my life.
I'm clouded by the cancer that caresses my corpse,
It's an itch to initiate another intimate conversation,
This repetition leads to relay reactions, ultimately to relapse.

- Mir