A Spattering of Existence

I long to exist
in the spaces of your heart
where no one else has been.
Alas some dreams return to dust
and remain unattainable, making a
monument of what you shall
never touch, a monument to all
you will never have. Even more
sorrowful is that i have been
crucified upon that monument.
Left to the rooks and to the worms,
under bridges and worth less than
cranes. Is my existence no longer
a reality in your soul?