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The way Psyche was awakened from her death-like sleep,

so to have I been from my own.

Except Eros is not waiting for me when I open my eyes.

There is no winged hero or fated lover,

no reward for loyalty or the immortalization of our embrace.

Just the light from above and the knowledge that I should rise.

But how I wish that you had drawn the sleep from my face

and put it back in the box from where it had escaped.

So that when I do rise, I can do so meeting your gaze

and trusting that between us, a mutual love awaits.

But I open my eyes to find I am alone

in the same house of golden columns and citrus woods,

surrounded by the beauty and possibility of everything

and everyone but you.