Succession

I know it’s over, and yet I know,
there will be no succession crisis
In this heart you scorched.

And there will be no replacing you.

I will not declare independence.
Nor will I become,
A lonely tourist in another’s heart.

I will live on in non-permanence
In uncertain corridors;

As a floating phantom
In a liquid palace.

Disconnected,
From these vassal territories
ruled by indecisive memories.

I will call your name.
And you will not answer.