If I break your heart tonight,
Hold onto its pieces until
I can bring them back together,
A shattered replica of the past,
A reminder that things will not last
That things will not be the same
As they are now.
What is the meaning of this all,
Of the world, of reality
If it is but a fallacy,
A perception of what could never be?
Why does it matter if I break your heart
Or if you break mine
Or if we get lost in the throws of time
Or if we end it all tonight?
Why does it matter if we live or die
If we carry on again to beg
To speak to a god
That is not there
That can do no good
To heal our lost minds?
why does it matter if I breathe or cry
Tell the truth or suffocate
On all the lies
That I tell to last one more night.
Your heart rests in mine,
A peace of the storm,
With the world all around me remaining unformed,
I want to hold your existence,
To push my hands through your hair,
To feel the breathe from your lips just to know that I’m there
I need that look in your eyes,
The smile from your soul,
To remind me that with or without you I am whole,
You stained my sheets with your comfort,
That protects from the darkest of dreams,
But eventually, my sheets must be cleaned.
Come back to me once more,
Come lay your head in my lap,
Let me feel as though this absence has just been a nap,
Because you keep me level,
Because you keep me sane,
And because you keep away of all the pain,
You are my guardian through the night,
Guardian through the day,
Guardian of my soul who keeps the world un-grey
Clapping against the beat of my heart
I attempt to offset this growing feeling
Of peeling away from myself,
A change in a new direction,
Right or wrong yet to be determined
Gripping against the demand of time
I’m left alone as all move forward
With the tide that I am left fighting
An anxiety clutching my chest as I
Let go of what I know
And dive into the land of make believe
Where people seem to care
But they’re just there
As props to supplement the passing time
To make you forget what you’ve lost
Along the way>
A tree searching for its past leaves
Without taking a moment to bereave
The slow demise of its life-force,
The color of its days.
Praying for a return,
Hoping to relearn a way to make it
Without protection against the infection
The tree sits alone,
With remnants of things now known
Only in memory.
The only option remains,
To abstain until new leaves grow,
Until spring shows and the snows
Of its loss
Melt away in the light of a new day.
A hope of once again.
“I’m alone,” She whispered to no one,
To passing bodies absorbed in themselves,
With nothing to think of
But their own existence
“I’m alone,” She mumbled a little bit louder,
A little less prouder, a little more fed up
With the uncaring people.
“I’m alone,” She said, standing up from her seat,
Rising to her feet, a feat in and of itself.
“I’m alone,” She shouted…
but no one cared to hear.
It seems I find myself alone on Saturday specifically,
Cuddling with my memories and munching on images
Of times we once shared long ago when I was young-
er than I am now, which is always.
My dog seems to ignore the silence and fills it
With roaring snoring and sharp breaths,
Reminding me that-ah- it is Saturday,
And I seem to be alone.