How quickly happiness becomes A devoured distant moment. She looks at me, in essence, like That hated London sweater, Once gifted by her grandmother. How she would burn every thread If such an act could pass without remark.
Like the bright eyes of a Blackbird, I too have brief, bright moments of hope. And I hope, indicated by a nod from The old chess player in the park, That ‘Things Might Improve’.
Instead he said “things only get sadder. Be it one lump or two, they all dissolve. The way each of us dies, Just..dissapearing..then swallowed Back into the dark.’
“I’ll tell you plain, that you Should have expected it by now. It is as it will always be, Like an icy dagger, In her heart, and in her hand.’ He nodded as if I should understand.
But I can’t relax. I’m spinning like Galaxies around a clock, And when I chance upon the rarity of a dream, It’s in white and endless days. I walk alone, and I weep. Weep For my Guardian Angel, perishing, always perishing. Never knowing which pieces are her or me. Never seeing the tiny bloodstained feathers.
I never even noticed the clock. Did it tick? Did it tock? Did it not? Was it frozen in indecision, In the moment that was lost When you reached the doorway threshold And you stepped across? Stuck? Between that second and the last, Unable to move on, unable to move past A fate of helpless observation, Endless replaying rotation. A mechanical mind, Unable to find resolution Or a hint of absolution, Sounds so very much like mine. Because when you left the last time, When you left for the very last time.. I never even noticed the clock.
How did I miss them? Everyday they came. So small, it all just seemed the same. If I noticed without worry, I am sorry. For each microscopic gap, the infinite tiny spaces, Gathering gradually over time. Connecting to make this chasm. Such a painfully intricate distance Between hearts.
Where do the pieces of a broken heart go
If they’re too fragile to stitch, or you don’t know how to sew?
Are they put back together with some mystical glue,
Or is there somewhere you can go, to purchase one that’s new?
One thing’s for certain, it takes forever in time, Fresh hearts are in demand, judging by the waiting line. Installing a new heart must be hard, I’ve no doubt, But I’m stuck at the part where your insides are your out.
This isn’t really new though, it’s not my first time ’round,
First-timers wait the longest, due to covering fresh ground.
I always ask for Adamantium, for a heart that cannot break,
But they keep giving me a glass one, and no choice but to take.
I never see who does it all, maybe it’s Santa Claus.
If he’s not received my letter yet,
I’d like to add this clause:
“Dear Santa, let’s just skip right to the end,
You can forgo all the material gifts,
If you’ll hurry up and mend
So this is what ‘forever’ looks like From the other side. A lot like broken promises And echoes of goodbye. Like everything you never got But always thought you’d get. Like each forgotten lonely grave Of every childhood pet. The only thing that’s certain is, It looks a lot like loneliness.
There are plenty of moments
Of heartache I admit,
Some hurt more than others,
And those hurt quite a bit.
But nothing cut me open
As surely and as swift,
As when you walked up
And handed back all of my gifts.
The ones that had meaning,
Given over years.
But you just dumped them in my hands,
Ignoring all my tears.
I confess not knowing what to say,
Never having felt that way.
You walked away, left me to hold
Rejected pieces of my soul.
I hope you speak to me real soon.
Hope you come out from your room,
Last time we did this,
We came so very close to broken.
Counting the days now,
Maybe the minutes since we’ve spoken.
Because I don’t want Us
To go and break Us.
We could shake this off.
How did we hate Us?
How did we end thus?
Now all around is just
Space to be apart.
Our togetherness cuts
Bleeding ruins of our heart.
I hope we find Us,
I hope we fix Us,
I just want ‘us’,
Always to be ‘Us’,
Red.. Scattered drops, The orange light of a life, burning. That scarlet spark. Approach Your perfect moment on the ledge. You lied to keep me in thrall, To give us another day without sorrow. But I smell tangerines..
I can tell by your tone There’ll be no picket fence. You try for casual discourses, But I just hear King’s Horses Assembling. Eggshell amour, My only defense Against all your King’s Men. I saw that wall, From which no one could fall, There’s yolk on your hand, For somebody planned The whole thing you see. Humpty was pushed. And now you plan to push me.