As you no longer stand Where you always stood, This emptiness inside me is so Poorly understood. One hundred million butterflies Together flapped their wings The moment you departed. A coiencedntal thing? That did far More than leave me broken hearted, Now it’s a massive tidalwave your Butterflies have started. As it looms, large above my shores, I’m left without a life-boat, All I have are wooden oars. And although it means that I would drown, If you need them, They are yours.
I bear the scars of your forty-fives,
You tried your best but I’m still alive.
You used two pistols and magazines,
Shot my heart and destroyed my dreams,
But a heart still works if it still cries,
And I cry.
I’m full of holes from your forty-fives, You couldn’t have missed me if you tried, But planned demise isn’t what it seems, Because I survived all your plots and schemes, And a thing’s alive if it still bleeds, And I bleed.
Now I’m immune to your forty-fives, And when you shoot me, I will still survive. The slugs are out and the wounds are clean, So go find better guns, if you’re still keen, Cos a girl’s alive if she can dream, And I dream.
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.
Did I learn to hate myself
With such immaculate perfection?
Self taught and unaware,
Still I excell, I succeed,
Seemingly such a strange sensation,
For I fail flawlessly amongst
Composure, Yeah I lost it. My mind, I lost that too. I lost my heart and everything, The moment I lost you. Now I’m shaking and unsure of How I’m supposed to feel, My friend’s are so blasé But to me it’s a huge deal. My stomach’s in my chest, I’ve lost track of all the rest, Each cell in me is bleeding tears. Although I’ve tried to act my best, I don’t give a fuck about Backlash or all that cost, When all I want is gone, Heartlost.
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.
Her smile is a Mona Lisa Crash Cart. A work of art that stops and starts The broken beat of my poor heart. Her lips are painting perfect, her smile mystifying, I bet even a single kiss would be electrifying. When it’s briefly, brilliantly, put on display, I surge with desire to steal her away. When I see her, my career ambition Is ‘art critic with a heart condition’, So I can see her defibrillating smile play, As they wheel my body away.
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
The meadowlark laughed.
Her singular propensity for disregarding
Guilt and sorrow
Made me think of you.
Everyday is such a perfect day
To be down.
Especially days when you’re around.
I try to tolerate such intolerable intolerance,
Given the chance. The circumstance.
It’s not the end
Of the world,
But I still fall
For the straight girl.
Such are the platitudes intended to make it easier to murder my companion of twelve years. My best and only friend. The most gentle and pure soul I have ever encountered, and quite probably the only reason I’m still alive.
When he’s gone…I can’t begin to imagine..
Now I must hold him in my lap while he is murdered.
MURDERED! despite knowing it will end his suffering and it must be done.
I promised myself I wouldn’t cry.
I haven’t done anything else.
Each time you pass me in the hall
I find new depths to fall into,
When all I ever wanted was
Some kind of smile from you.
One meant just for me,
Have your eyes focus and see
Me standing there,
Red faced and feeling small.
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’,