Karyatid Nike

My karyatid angel
Now gone for quite some time
Still haunts the quiet moments
While stalking prayers and dreams.

For each day spent alone,
For all hours and seasons,
I miss a gentle touch.
I miss the warmth now cold.

The strength I thought she gave me
Is fiction, like the rest.
I hold my temple's roof
On very weary shoulders.

The fiction drives my questions:
Will there be another?
Can any pillar last?
Is weight like this attractive?

Suspicions outweigh hope.
I think my solitude
Reserves the weight for me.
No Karyatid Nike

Will help me,
Love me,
Wait.