All I want is someone with a broken heart
and a tattered soul
and a kind smile
that is still willing to love
and we don’t have to love each other specifically
as long as we both just love to love
because facts and details become boring
and bodies age
and the same jokes might still be funny
but the haha’s have lost their edge
and isn’t love all we are
what are we other than the answer
to the last prayer falling
from the lips of a dying god
gone mad from being alone
in the emptiness that once was
and spit us out of the womb
of its dream that felt the pains
of first becoming aware
and we drifted and floated
and slowly covered its corpse
and wasn’t it beautiful then
when love was a singular vibration
and thread that connected us
one and all through dreams and death
and then somehow we lost touch
and became complicated
and advanced and civilized
and addicts and abusive and abused
and divided and conquered
and molded and cut and boxed
and domesticated and foreign and distant
and love became a postcard
and a postage stamp
and a card for a holiday
for this cheap replication of living
for this miserable thing we make out of life
so give me your broken heart
and your tattered soul
and your kind smile
and bore me with the details
and I’ll hang on every one
and we’ll get old
and laugh at the same joke
till we’ve fallen over the edge
and gone mad
and we’ll bury ourselves
in the corpse of the god
that gave birth to us all