sweetheart, what have you done to us?
you may have broken me
I've enough pain to last the rest of my life
all that's left to linger is meek wind through my wild hair
you used to call me lover
and now the sunshine doesn't touch my skin
and my cursive is just as sloppy as my thoughts of you
sweetheart, strangers watch us through the night while we're sleeping
poets have a certain touch of sadness in their eyes,
a certain touch of sadness that only another poet could understand
my violet lips taunt draw nearer
the sapphire in my eyes warn keep your distance
you want to hear the words that separate whom I was to who I am
but darling, it's not that simple
I prefer to dream in silence
there's a past I've never known and it reels me to this same place of
searching without finding, of lonesome noon's of writing
We made love in your car once
on the rooftop of a thirteen-story parking structure in Los Angeles city
the faint smell of liquor warm on your breath
the full look of night-sky ablaze in your eyes
you mended my skin with soft parted lips
sewing my wounds shut one kiss at a time
It’s been six months since and now I sit here, alone
in the parking lot of a train station some miles away from town
observing the dismiss and arrive of lives I'll never get to be a part of
my insides are still bleeding just as much as that night in the city
when you held my naked skin in your mending arms
/ /
sweetheart, you used to call me lover
when I didn't know what love meant