The tenants of my heart,
Have so recently been evacuated,
Their departure was abrupt,
And they left much behind.
But my heart is for rent,
I'm opening up the space,
I promise you, you'll be pleased,
There is no better place.
The space is wide and open,
You can paint the walls,
I won't mind.
Make the place your home,
It's safe, it's warm,
The fee is rather small, I swear,
And a simple thing to do,
I will not charge you money to rent,
Out my simple heart,
I only ask that you bring love with,
And please,
Don't tear it apart.

Pass me my pen,
So I may go to battle,
There is a war brewing,
Between head and heart.
Troops must be called,
In the form of neatly,
Printed, black letters,
Each marching promptly,
After one another.
"We cannot let the emotions win,"
The head orders steadily,
Always analytic.
"Think of what good could come of this,"
The heart says to her troupes,
Her tone far gentler than that of the head.
Each side has merit,
Evenly matched.
A dual is bubbling,
One which will only have,
A ****** end.
One side will win out,
But there will be no victor.

So pass me my pen,
So I may go to war,
My words will fight the battle,
Upon the pale page.

Perhaps it was foolish of me,
To expect more to follow,
Our simple conversation.

Dear Future Lover of His,
Please listen to my words,
I want him to be safe,
In only a way which I know.

Dear Future Lover of His,
Please lay your heart on his chest,
Every day, twice a day,
And listen to his heart beat,
Make sure it is normal, on pace,
For if it isn't,
Something is wrong.

Dear Future Lover of His,
Buy blue Monster for him,
Before every soccer game,
For the pain and fear of seeing him,
Panting and passed out,
Delirious, is not worth any pain,
On Earth.

Dear Future Lover of His,
Don't pressure him to play guitar,
He will play for you when he truly wants,
And when his memories finally let him.

Dear Future Lover of His,
When he is drunk and sobbing,
Saying it is his fault,
Lay his head on your lap,
Pet his hair gently,
And remind him simply,
It is not.

Dear Future Lover of His,
When his anxiety hits,
Pull his hair for him,
And rub his neck,
Whisper sweet things in his ears,
And do not get upset,
When he doesn't want to be in,
Every one of your photos.

Dear Future Lover of His,
When he asks you what to draw,
Give him an endless list of suggestions,
So that his hands may never rest.

Dear Future Lover of His,
On June 15th,
Take him away from home,
Remind him endlessly how you love him so,
Then take him to the nearest parkour park,
And watch him run for hours.

Dear Future Lover of His,
Let him teach you soccer,
Because watching him play,
And go easy on you,
Is the sweetest thing you'll ever taste.

Dear Future Lover of His,
Never hold the past against him,
And please don't worry,
He hates your worrying the most.

Dear Future Lover of His,
Understand he needs alonetime,
Even if you need his time,
All the time.

Dear Future Lover of His,
Please be gentle, and kind,
Please let him love you for as long as he can,
And maybe you're place will replace mine,
The one where I am supposed to be,
For he needs someone to be there,
A rock, a constant,
And all I want is for him to be,
Happy.

The problem with opening up,
And speaking the sad words,
"I don't want to be here anymore,"
And showing your scars,
So intimately sharing yourself,
With those you trust so dearly,
Is that, inevitably, the next thing,
To follow,
Is pity.

Please remove him,
From my thoughts,
I'm not in his,
So I'd wish he weren't in mine.

Please remove him from my veins,
Which bleed for him as
I tear them open in a pathetic
Attempt to set him free.

Please remove him from my tears,
For I do not wish to shed anymore,
Not for him,
Not for her.

Please remove him from my heart,
Which drums each beat to his tune,
It is far to sad to play a song for him,
Knowing he will never listen again.

Please remove him from my words,
He is not deserving,
Yet here he is,
Laced in each line,
His presence ever unnerving.

Is it possible to
Have a pre-life crises?
For I am nowhere near
Mid-life,
Yet I find myself deeply,
In peril.