Amazing how great
the
p  i  e  c  e  s
of a
b  r  o  k  e  n
heart weigh

Don't you ever think
you are one step ahead from me.
Because the truth is
you are always two steps behind.

You do not see me -
I've seen the world reflected
in your distant eyes.

You do not feel me -
clenched around your heart beating
fast as humming birds.

You do not speak me -
out in the night, thin in the dark
like an empty oath.

You do not find me -
in the sky, sea, city, trees
where my mind wanders.

You do not touch me -
behind my eyes, beneath my soul.
It shrinks away.

You do not see me -
The gap you leave, it left you whole.
I fade away.

For the girl with the bow in brown hair,

            the heat from the upstairs
restaurant cures the street where we walk,
            the freight’s in on the track,
you can tell by the horns,
            I from the diesel smell below the
afternoon clouds, faint above,
            sometimes when we speak a heart rate
somewhere peaks,
            another graph pinned to an office wall
shows this clear,
            sometimes when we talk tense chests
fear the answer you may say,
            the graph strays past paper and onto
those office walls, in red with a palmed
            smudge where you forgot where
the words ended.

            For the girl with the bow in brown hair,
your eyes are theatre-light reflections in twenty-four hour
window panes sat packed neatly off the corner of West 47th
and 7th, for you’re my central Times Square.

Sleep escapes me
when the waking dream seems to fade
back into it's dull reality,
piercing pain and endless disappointments.

my face is hot with anger
and I scream in silence,
clutching my pillow, clutching onto what's left here
hoping you don't let me go
as easily as you took me into your life.

the past will not be altered
you've made your mark.
I can't erase it even if I wanted to.
I'll try to reassemble the shattered trust
but it's harder than it would ever seem.
can't you see that i'm trying,
can't you see that i care?

I steal the breath, the sleep runs away from me
all of my fears taunting me and my fatigue,
and as it sets in,
I look up, begging,
don't let me go- just like that.

Our sweet departure haunts me today-
You left me with such a high,
A high that all drug addicts wish they could achieve.
But no injection could ever accomplish this feeling
Of lust, happiness, bliss coming from your soft fingertips
As you stroked my back in our goodbye.

Now, my back and heart ache for your gentle touch.
I need to see you again for that wonderful high-
You are my addiction, your eyes, your embrace, your voice...
Come back to me.

It was a smile
it was up-all-nights
It was inside jokes
It was pinky promises
It was never ending talks
About religion
About god
all that **** we're never allowed to give an opinion on
It was a three word sentence
It was hand holds in the cinema
It was kisses in the bathroom
Or any where with a lockable door
It was cheesy texts
And cheesier phone calls
Then it was goodbye
It was time difference
It was Skype
It was guyish needs
And girlish give-ins
It was more lust
less love
It was stupid arguments
It was picking fights
Just to feel something
Other than
numb
It was a hard decision
It was "for the best"?
It was unwanted mornings
It was sleepless nights
It was puffy eyes
It was no one will love me again
It was I still miss you
It was pain
Now it's fear
Of what was
All over again.

Who is she?
The girl in the red, white and black dress.
The girl in the shiny, brown eyes.
The girl in the innocent smile.
The girl in the fragile, white skin.

Who is she?
The girl that passes me by.
The girl that caught my eye.
The girl that enchanted my soul.
The girl that I'm too shy to talk to.

Who is she?
The girl with no name.
The girl with no history.
The girl with no age.
The girl with no flaws.

Who is she?
The girl no one knows.
The girl no one talks to.
The girl no one sees.
The girl no one likes.

Who is he?
The boy who fell in love with a total stranger.
The boy who dies to know her name.
The boy who wishes to write on her blank pages.
The boy who dreams of co-starring her history.

*That boy is me.