I spend time today staring into my wall.
I suppose I can give the ceiling a break.
I stared at that yesterday.

A part of me worries that my intensity might spark a fire in the wall and burn a hole.

Then I remember my intensity can't spark much of anything.
Be it love.
Be it fire.

I've stared into her eyes with a cousin of this same intensity.
One a little less
Gloomy.

I saw myself in her eyes.
Not because I belonged their,
But because her eyes were a mirror
Never letting me
In.

The funny thing is,
I like to think that if I write long enough
My romantic view of the world will
Blossom

Like a daisy.

Well.

It won't.

The world I live in is dark. The soil unfit

Unyielding.

If I try to dig down so I can plant,
My fingers scrape on broken glass-

Or was that a broken heart.
Hard to tell these days.

So I return to the wall.
Only when I burn my eyes at it all I can see is the fragments of my
Heart.

Thrown like throwing stars into the plaster.

Remnants of a heart broken one too many times.