Why didn't I stop him?
Was there a way?
Or was he too ****** up in the head to listen?
Did he not realise that what he did was wrong?
Did he not understand that seven years later I would still hate myself?
Could he not, just for a moment, have stopped and thought about me?
No?
Then why the **** should I care about him?
What is it about me that means, not only do I forgive him, but I want to help him as well?
Why did I become the cold-hearted *******?
How did that happen?
Where did he take my happiness?
Because he talks so much **** I don't know what to believe anymore.
How can he live with himself?
I certainly can't, but he just keeps ******* up as many lives as he can.
I'd keep going,
But he isn't worth it,
He just took every part of my mind,
And reversed my joy.

I'm done.

His breathing is slow,
His slumber deep,
A bottle in his hand betrays,
His never-ending wasteful ways.

Leave me be,
I never felt anything for you,
Nothing close to what I feel for her now.
You believe you own me?
Well back off,
I belong to one, and one alone.
She actually cares
She actually listens
So don't think for a second you can compete with her.
You can call me 'traitor'
You can accuse me of heartbreak,
Betrayal and cruelty are words that do not cross my mind.
Leave me be
Let me love

The briefest of conversations,
The most serious tone in her voice,
As she explained the end was here.

I listened, helpless, as she told me,
That I wasn't worth it,
That she didn't feel the same as before.

I watched as she stood to leave,
Avoiding my eyes,
Picking up her bag to walk out of my life.

I told her to wait, a final, desperate attempt,
I told her I'd do anything,
She said: "I don't think there's anything you can do."

And with that, the best two months of my life,
Came to a bitter end,
With tears, regrets and despair in control of me.

The hardest part is not that she's gone,
It's that I can't bring myself to hate her,
I still love her.

But I guess that wasn't enough.

Farewell, you who showed me how to smile,
Be happy,
If I can't do that for you, I hope someone else can.

Relief
Release
Content
Happy
Safe
Relaxed
Free
Accepting
Frustrat­ed


Final

The hearts of the dead,
Beat, broken, in perfect time,
Until forgotten.

She starts to cry,
I know exactly why,
But there's nothing I can do to help.

Her eyes look down,
To hide her frown?
Or to hide from my reaction she fears?

I can't see past her hair,
But I hear her despair,
As she pours out the depths of her soul.

How to respond,
To such a sad song,
That leaves me with no comforting words?

Tell her it'll all be fine?
She'll know that's a lie,
An easy escape from facing facts.

Nothing I say,
Or price I pay,
Will change the events of the past.

So all I can do,
Is tell her the truth,
And make a commitment of trust.

And try to repay,
Her trust on that day,
With a secret I kept in my heart.

The time she saved,
Quite by mistake,
A weak, blackened and crumbling life.

Finally I feel,
It's time to reveal,
How she rescued me from that box in the cupboard.

It can't help much,
But maybe enough,
That she'll realise what she's worth.

And in holding my hand,
Completely unplanned,
You made me happier than I've ever been.

But three words meant more,
Words I'd never heard before,
Spoken by another to me with honesty.

And I know that they,
Were hard for you to say,
After all that others have put you through.

"I trust you"

How to define a moment,
That happened over time?
How to define the time,
That began before your mind?
How to know your own mind,
When you're stuck rethinking things through?
How to escape an endless loop,
That was never tight, but loose?

Can something grow,
If it's as big as it can be?
Can water flow,
From the lowest point in the sea?
Can fear know,
When there are no more boundaries?
Can travellers go,
Beyond what their mind's eye sees?

If love is supposed to be beautiful,
Why is love blind?
Maybe it's selfless, giving something it can never have itself.
If hate is supposed to blacken your heart,
Why is anger red?
Maybe anger drains your heart of blood, and hate is what remains.
If life is supposed to be bountiful,
Why does it always end?
Maybe it's to teach us to make the most of our time.
If death is supposed to be final,
Why do we mourn?
Maybe it gives our mind time to detach itself from the lost.

Questions are what make us human,
Or is it the journey to answer them?
Or the answers themselves?
Or maybe it doesn't matter, as long as we have another question to ask.

How long is a moment?
How slowly can we live it?
And how full of questions can it be?

Rain fell with no ending
As I half-ran through the city
With only a jacket
No hood
Droplets drummed against my head
And soaked through my hair
Ran down my cheeks
And over my lips
Slipping softly
Between my breaths
Upon my tongue
And resting there
Whispering, lingering
An echo of a kiss
I can't yet know