O' young one.
How long has it been,
since you last knew
the colour of the sky,
the smell of freshly-cut grass,
the sound of laughter,
the touch of another,
the feeling of warmth,
and being alive?

When was the last time
you said,
"I love you."
and meant it?
Felt happy,
and genuinely felt it?
How long...
Are you going to continue living this way?
How long until you decay?

There is another way,
just take it day by day...

Look into my eyes
and see
my oceanic love.

The salty winds which they conjure
to support your wings,
the crashing waves
that surround,
and the tides
that pull
you into my
embrace.

Drown in my love
and I will do
the same in yours.

"Sorry, but..."
The beginning of a simple message,
and the beginning of the end.
End of all familiarity and home,
end of possibilities and blue skies,
end to all expectations and sunrise...

Clouds cover the sun,
coldness takes over.
Breath hitches in your coarse throat,
wetness builds in your eyes,
as your heart breaks down.

"Sorry, but..."
A phrase that has become a frequent visitor in your life.
A phrase heard over and over again
like a broken record.
But despite the pain of it all,
you never learn.

With each utterance of the damning phrase,
the words pierce your flesh even further.
The end of all things...
And the frustrating part?
There's nothing you can do to stop it.

So, you smile,
salty water dripping from your eyes,
chest heavy,
wind whistling through the hole where your heart once was,

"I understand."

You text back,
hands shaking,
eyes fixated on the two words
displayed on the small LED screen.
But, sorry,
it doesn't mean that I'm not hurting.

My mother used to tell me to be careful
with who I entrust to be the keeper
of my heart.
I ignored her.
After all,
all broken things can be fixed.

Like the sunrise,
relationships came and went.
The pain which the bitter end brought with it,
never lessened with each subsequent visit.

My body began to degrade,
hope began to dissipate,
soul grew tired,
and heart,
torn.

Time never truly healed the tears in my heart
like so many before me had promised.
All these years I thought my mother feared my heart being broken,
alas,
her fears laid in my heart progressively growing numb,
apathetic
and indifferent
with each new person I start with.

Time of death:
3:44.
When you told me you don't love me anymore.
Place of death:
The park where we met,
on a lazy Sunday afternoon.
I remember the dreaded words which escaped your lips,
the heat in your words,
the look on your face,
as I took a metaphorical bullet to the chest;
it hurt like Hell.
Cause of death:
You.
When you stabbed me in the heart for the first
and last time.
A fatal blow.
But in the coroner's office,
all the report will ever show is:
time of death:
3:44.
Cause of death:
Trauma to the chest.

I was a fool in pain.

Selfish,
childish,
wrapped up in my feelings,
and oblivious to yours.

Desperately wanting to extinguish
the fire in my heart,
which I knew would never burn for two...
Heartbreak changed me.

I wanted my pain to end
and yours to begin.
Threw all emotions and history aside,
and willfully,
disregarded your emotions
to deliver the bitter end.

I was a fool in pain.

I see you now,
your accomplishments,
the people in your life
and the love which fills it...
While I
desperately search for someone to set a spark
in my hearth where your fire once burned.
Countless attempts,
countless heartbreaks.

Punishment for the ugly end I wrote in our story.

You were right.
It did not have to end the way it did.

Though the juvenile pain has now subsided,
I forever bear your scorch marks on my chest.
Though we are no longer in each other's stories,
I forever carry you in this tear-jerking memory.

I miss you,
I think of you still.

I was a fool.

I am afraid.
Afraid
that one day,
when all is said and done
and I am grey and old,
that the only stories I'll tell
will be ones of heartbreak and desperation
of the flesh.