I've spent my life being the architect for others
meanwhile the blueprints for my ideal home
collect dust in the corner of a room
that no longer feels like my own
the air grown stale and cold
the windows permanently closed

I build their foundations
strong enough to withstand any insult
I can install elevators if they need to be lifted
put in mirrored ceilings and floors
so that whether they are looking up or down
they can see the wonder that is themselves
and stairs so that I can keep climbing
right into their lives

I never get paid a dime
especially not when they move
and I lose everything
all the work I put in for nothing
the fine tuned custom floor plan
with no bodies to fulfill it
nothing to justify its existence
left for someone else to find

likely they'll call me back in
to tear it all down and begin again.