Brewing

A room that is cluttered,
empty and my own.
The days have faded
and my conscience grown.

I think of you and always,
sullen I seem.
When all I have is wonder,
without the bliss of dream.

You find yourself without me
in a house that often creaks.
She has a wilted manner,
and words she inwardly speaks.

You still continue to rattle,
shake and recede.
Without her as your leaning post,
you can only plead.

"Take me and behold,
the things I have for you.
Mirrors and falsities,
things seldom true"

I have but one direction
Today, you may see.
The thing I truely want from you,
is for you to set me free.