I talk a big talk when you're around.
Yes.
Around you I act so happy -
and part of that is true, because it's you and you're around.
But I talk a big talk.
I can't help it.

Something inside me turns on that has to be strong
When on the inside things are twisting,
so painfully wretching.

Inside is this monster of jealousy,
when you're around.
It captures me.
and trust becomes untrustworthy
when you're around (her).

But when you're around, something in me breathes
that deep breath of what it used to be.

When you're around it's hard to see you leave.
And I can't look you in the eye,
when mine betray me.

All the strength that I had mustered
will melt away like nothing,
and you'll see what's underneath:

You'll see I am not free -  
and the longing that entangles me
when you're around.

I'm so lonely, I write these poems for you
even though you don't know me
and I don't know you.
You'll never know my name.
Or who they're about.
You'll never know my family
or my face.
But that's the comfort of anonymity.
To say here
what can never be said aloud.
To feel here
What is too hard to feel with them.
Because I know I'll never really be "in"
I know I'll never belong
to them
to him
to anyone.
To be heard, but not known.
To be seen, but not judged.
To speak aloud in the dark.
I'm lonely, so I write here, for you
because you'll never know me.

The things he
Remembered - they stained his memory - things that could not be  
Undone, unsaid; the monster he saw her turn into.
She had hoped that it would not be so.  But it was
Too late.  Nothing can change how he sees her now.
                                
                           ­     Nothing can change what she's become.

it's funny how,
when something breaks,
it can't be put back together
without scars.
you may take the pieces
of a china plate
and put them back together
with super glue;
but the cracks remain and
you must be more careful with it
than you were before.
it's too bad most people aren't so careful.

these are nice thoughts
the things they say -
but how about some reality,
does it ever really play out that way?

those words are nice
and sound real pretty
but in a sea of inaction
words lose all their meaning.

but here is a hypocrite
speaking this wisdom
when all my words and apologies
couldn't change our destruction.

A heart is broken
and broken again.
Broken in so many pieces
it turns to dust.

The dust is blown away.
Nothing remains.

The bits of hope it left behind
are small and scattered.
When the light catches them
they unveil empty rooms and stark, formidable walls.

Nothing is left.

at night I cry out
into empty spaces.
I cry to You
not knowing if you’re listening
not knowing if you’re there
thinking that I’m crazy for believing.

but I don’t believe.

I don’t believe,
but I keep talking to You
as if you'll answer me.

But you stopped answering long ago.

I cry for what I’ve lost.
but all that follows
is silence.
My God fills my despair with silence.
I keep on struggling in the deafening silence.
But nothing changes because
Nothing is the same.