That's a start - in the room of my heart.

My thoughts do not contain certitude,

For there stands before me a physical facsimile

Of you.

Except lacking your attitude.

Your timorous tone,

You threw,

Impugning the ideas of love you once knew.

For the memories you hold

No gratitude.

With the most exigent manner you depart

My heart

The room - that's a start.