If her eyes were
the gateway to her soul,
then her heart is a
picket fence ideal of our love.

When I cannot be
what she needs from me
I follow her into
her wildest dreams,
where our electricity
lives only as a memory.

'She loves me' she said
Je t'aime - I can't reply
So instead,
choke me until I'm dead
re-wire my soul
and when I wake...

I might be able to love you
the way you want me to.

Her heart is twisted,
she yearns for him still...
Her love beacon beckons, but
small sonars bounce off
the four brick-walls
her mind has constructed.

Her heart is muted,
so her sound-proof love
stays a lonely soul.
Inside her protective shell
she'll never tell
that she loves him, still.


Jennifer Alé