I will leave your love here
in the graveyard of regret
because I cannot take it with me
the burden
the memory
the joy
the pain
the  love
the almost
the lovely
too heavy
for my already
heartbroken
weakened heart.

word on the street
is you’ve been looking
for my heart
truth be told
it’s not that hard to find
in fact
I wear it on my sleeve
most Monday afternoons
Tuesday evenings
yes, those too.

when dawn
broke
so did I

let it be
let it lie
if you will
let’s be still
yes, I will
I will be still
a bit  against
my will
but I will
nevertheless be still
at least
for now

what I really want to write
are the poems I didn’t write
the poems that I read
deep and profound
what I really want to see
are the things I never see
feelings lost to me
what I really want to write
are the words I didn’t  know
that
I  didn’t know
what I really want to write
are the things
I suspect I may
never know
but I really want to write them
anyhow

can I let every little thing
that makes me me
flow out of me
naturally  
or do
I have to check myself in at the door?

our love
which was once
an event
a waterfall
a crescendo
splendid enough that
people would queue
for hours
just to to see it
I get it
I would queue too
to see
our love
our love
is now just
a trickle
that no one
is interested enough
to get out of bed for
it’s just not
that special
anymore
in all honesty
it’s just not that interesting
to anyone
not even to
to you and me
anymore