This letter I write to you, with my heart turned to stone
Empty this cave of sorrow, without your guiding light
This empty dark abyss, no longer feels like a home
Your voicemail on repeat, craving your voice
Bereft of choice, I scream at my phone

I love you! You the air that I breathe
Your name sweetened my life
Now a suffocating vice ,  I choke when I speak
Our love severed, by our bond it bleeds
From the broken promises it seeps
Cuts left wounds deep, left defeated and weak
Trying to remove the knife you stabbed me with
Tears me to tears when I feel

I thought our love was unique

You lifted the veil from my eyes
Happiness I no longer see
Replacing your love with hate
So I can finally be set free

This final letter, the beginning of peace
Breathe, I wipe my saddened tears
Erased from my scars, as I click delete

I sang a simple song today.
Fingers laced together,
honey-soaked marbled whispers,
lost photographs drifting down a forest creek.

Silence sank in.
Static tore at my beggar's brain.
Ink blots stained his cheek.
I looked down on him yet again.
He looked at me and smiled with relief,

and uttered

"I must ask.
Are we the lock?
Or the key?"

If you wish to grow these
sunflowers within my blue walls

Know that I am a house
the sun never visits, but I have:

Vacant rooms
with burning lovers

Floors
with footprints of dead florists

Albums
with nostalgic photographs of her

A single bed
on my scorching roof

Stairs
that creak to the rhythm of my growing pain

Doors
with engraved haikus

Mirrors
that reflect her image in front of my blue walls