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For someone so heartless,
My heart hurts quite often.
A painful presence,
Not easy to ignore.

But who cares about a *****,
A *****,
A heartless,
Heartless girl?
My bare feet slide against the *****, wet pavement,
As I walk the road millions have taken.
I’m alone as I walk, naked, cold, in the night,
No moon, no stars, no signs of light or even life.
For some reason the narrow street was so clear,
The road appeared infinite but I strolled with fear.
An impossible terror, I tried to cry but couldn’t bring tears.
The loudest silence began ringing in my ears,
I walked for days, months until the years,
I could feel the heat rising as my destination neared…
You need to let the sand move alone
Inside the hourglass,
Instead of shaking it by the rim trying to make time pass.
Impatiently waiting, forcing love to move fast,
Then the glass ends up breaking,
Because you lose your grasp.
And as the glass shatters, and the sand spreads,
You fall to your knees
And try to gather all the shards and it shreds
Your palms and you bleed,
Until you’re almost dead.

You just give up and kick the pieces to the curb,
Lying to yourself that the pain doesn’t hurt.
Really inside your mind you’re debating what hurts most,
Your ****** palms, your broken heart,
Or the fact you let the hourglass go.
You decide on none of the above.
What really pains the soul,
Is the fact you hurt your partner
Who said you both should take it slow.

You didn’t realize the hourglass
Not only affected yourself,
That the effects of selfishness
Will reflect on one’s self,
And your ugliness will be reflected off the glass
Of the hourglass,
And shone in the face of your other half.
Now you’re forced to walk the earth,
As mere halves.
Incomplete hearts victim to the wrath
Of an impatient patient hospitalized in the past.
If you could find all the pieces on the ground,
Rebuild the hourglass and flip it around,
Rewind to the time when happiness encompassed minds,
Everything would be fine, if you could just find the time.
Time is valuable
And your soul has paid the fine.

You can define lost time,
Don’t let lost time define you.
You must defy that fine line
That divides you and your love
Because to lose love is a divine crime
Judged from the one above.
Just remember that the hourglass,
Representing the countdown
To complete, wholly, holy love,
Is not only yours but also your only love’s.
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

— The End —