The White Marble Tower

The white marble tower you once called home is Charred at the base from years of lightning, Charred from years of passion. Remember the amaranths, Growing like wildflowers Beneath the windows? They died in the shadows. Your absence has burned its way Into the air. So little remains. But rejoice, As much as I can call this place home, You can always come to me here, In this white marble tower I call home. But beware, Since you ran from this place It has become truly mine. Remember the antique armchair You longed to own? It decayed after years of watching the hills from the attic, Searching for you to reclaim your humble throne. But rejoice, You can always return to me here, In the white marble tower I call home. Rise and walk skeletal from your grave And you will find me rotting here, Devoid of pity, devoid of compassion, Devoid of everything that gives life flavor.