forgotten

her heart withers on the vine
unchosen by the multitudes
condemned to solitary confinement
by gods uncaring
she denies their existence
burning their words in effigy
carving her new mantra
into pale and brittle flesh
without the warmth of passion
lacking the sweet pain of love
a soloist, in a world of duets
trapped by desires denied
not three minutes of empty sex
but three hours of intellectual exchange
making love with words
swimming in a sea of ideas
wrapped in blankets of philosophy
her misfortune to arrive
in an era of emptiness
fast food dining
instant communication
married today, divorced tomorrow
little blue pills
created for thirty seconds of darkness
but no quick fix
for a soul forgotten
by a world whose search for reality
led to the empty box
where services are conducted
at eight eastern, seven pacific