I’d like to find the words
to cut right through the muck,
but when it comes to you
you know that I’m just stuck,
I ready up the blades
and soap clean my hands,
to work toward the heart
no matter where it lands—
All the things—
We said—
Will forever be dead—
But I’ll hold on—
Instead—
You’ll always live inside my head.
I think the words mean what I mean to say.