I see you crumpled and ragged
Lying on the contemporary leather couch
The one you bought in better times.
I wish I could give you a padded room
For you to emancipate your fury.
I hear your shattered and estranged voice
Talking to me on your extravagant new cell
The one you required in happier times.
I wish I could bring back your musical muse
For you to lose yourself in the strings.
I feel your sorrowful torment
Going through your demanding days
Like the ones you had in another lifetime
I wish I could give you a serene pillow
On which to rest your languid head.
I smell your immense grief and revulsion
Selling the utopian beach house of your ideals
The one that was a rebirth of a punctuated life
I wish I could endow you with a home
In which to shelter away from this tornado.
I taste your salty clandestine tears
Being shed from your exposed being
The one that has fostered abuse and dismay
I wish I could be there to incinerate the despair
For you to continue the way you were.
