I think it was when I wiped away the 57th tear
That I realized I was no longer as strong as I thought I was.
That somewhere in between the screams and the apologies
I lost myself again to the repetition of apologetic syllables.
But then I try to tell you,
Show you my epiphany of purpose,
And I remember why I cry and scream.
Why the 'sorries' can never be overdone.
I have lost you, brother.
Somewhere before the burn in the throat
And the screech of the breaks.
Sometime before the 1st tear and still after the 608th.

the most terrifying moment in the world
is to step into a love that pre-exists your soul
for the fear of crumbling the condition of dependence
whispers into the plausibility of a broken bond.

I hate you for this.
The way your warmth has crawled out beneath an evasive watch
Escaping without proof.
I knew there was a reason for your lies
The ones that curled beneath fingertips and mistaken smiles.
Is that what you wanted?
A moment of utmost clarity.
Because it exists now
Instead of you.
I get it
That darkness bound you to a corner
A victim of victimless lovers.
Are you happy?
Because I am here sitting on half a roll of toilet paper.
This is life I have been told.
Don't you get it now?

I was prepared to tell her that the fight was only temporary
That her perception of the world would disappear with the rest of her love for stars
But she cried that night over something on the news
So I held on tight to the obnoxious secret of missing ends.

We watch a separate life
Our souls colliding only half the time.
Fighting in the way a soldier dies.
I used to love the way you lied
Bent the truth in a way a hungry man survives.
But it took fourteen times of broken eyes
Corrupted from a lack of trying times
To block out hateful words of a man
Forcing little girls to fake a lovely laugh.

we watch it unfold.
their love. if it was ever permanently there to begin with.
i think they watch their time closely.
i like to hope.
so maybe when he hated her the first time, it didn't hurt as much.
i close my eyes.
sometimes i cry.
but usually i sit cross legged and wait for her to walkout of the bathroom.
she banished her soul to his reserved moments of breathless pause.
and that is how i learned what love is.

We missed eight more full moons
Before the world caught us in its breath
There is some kind of lost innocence
When burnt lungs collapse
It's the irregularity of orbital distaste
That sends her storming into empty wings.