I don't think heartbreak gets easier after your first love, I think you just learn to love less.

I have heard a heart
drop and a
heart burst,
but I've never quite felt
a contraction
or inflation
as red
or
as full of life
as you.

You are blue
in an ocean
that never knew.

Yellow paints
the sun,
and your hips,
too.

I gather flowers
in valleys,
blooming without
any stems
for you.

I'm so deep inside my mind that my life is no longer being lived.
The mind and body are detached.
It's as if I'm watching a play; I've not seen it before but I know the outcome of every scene.
There are no surprises anymore, nothing new, nothing to spark an idea. Everything has happened before, every word said before me.
What difference am I making by repeating words and actions of others?
I'm not.
The meaning of my life is to make others happy, to ensure those I meet never know how it feels to be lonely, hurt or unloved.
This is not a difference you can make when you are trapped in despair.
If the meaning of life is compromised, then life itself is, too.
Why live a life with no meaning?
There is no reason at all.

Air  
still.  
City ablaze with light,  
and souls.  
And an acoustic guitar  
Echoing  
molten words  
an unfamiliar language of a  
Melody’s essence awakening.  
Inhale.