I first saw you walking down the street
I don’t know when you first saw me
maybe at home
in the mirror of your memory
maybe in the pages of the book
you were reading outside in the winter
at that cafe
You had me all smiles
and I had you
all similes
a pretty little thing
to stroke my pretty little thing against
You in your fashionista bombshell outfit
me in my childlike excitement
as I walked on past
and I wonder
if later that night
you were in your bedroom
which is just as messy as mine
I wonder if you thought to yourself
“well hot ****, that was one hot ****** guy”
if not that’s fine
my words are subjectively an object of your subject
Does that make sense?
I seem to do that a lot
rambling over myself and over myself
as if you caught me in a lie
I hadn’t yet told
I hold on to the belief
that You caught me in the corner of your eye
and decided to save me for later
It’s the only thing us passing strangers
have really got

I'm slowly dying inside.
You've ripped your heart
from my being, and given
it to someone else.
Leaving me with this
big gaping emptiness,
So please .............

May I have my heart back?

I used to live every day,
breathing you in.
Now, I'm hoping that each
exhilation will somehow help
in letting you go..
But I'm aching and hurting
with futile longing,
and I know I'll never have
your heart again,
so please ...............

May I have my heart back?

Battered and bruised,
wearing the scars of
rejection...... I don't mind.
Before I die, please .......

May I have my heart back?

Did I miss something here?
Did I misunderstand?
Was the sound of my presence too high pitched for your ears?
Did I squeeze too hard when embracing your face?
Was the glimmer in my eye too bright for your retina?
Did my hands form blades as they ran down your back?
Was my love a slap across your perfectly structured cheek?
Did my legs turn to sand paper as they intertwined with yours?
Did they slowly gnaw away at your caged in comfort zone?
Was there poison on my lips?
Was it a slow, steady venom?
Did it drip to my chin?
Did you taste it in my kiss?
Did it sting when I accepted everything you are?

Hand me that dagger.
Let me pierce your pulsing heart.
It’d make a lot more sense.
You could easily write me off
with all of the rest.

Burn me.