what a heavy heart i hold
when an ex-lover tells me
of his 2a.m. window
how he stares through it and cries
he longs to be held,
by anyone, though not me
but i can sing for him
through little videos of folk
and little words of honey
"I'm older now than I have any right to be
Old enough to repaint and young enough to sell
I feel tired
I want to be held
I'm just
Cold"
I told him once how life was short,
but love grew old
My trust is nervous
he has the right to be so dear to me
I'll hold this pain forever
I'll let it rest within
every weathering and lacing moment
where the knots in his hair have been
I still have this window
I still have his heart
I still feel his warmth
even without him