sometimes i hope
he cries.
sometimes i hope
he dies.
but sometimes,
ill wonder if he misses me.
the way we spoke,
like the world was collasping
and our hearts
were attaching.
but now I sit here.
think of you.
thinking of this sourly
drawn world
which is still put together into one.
thinking of our hearts.
which aren't out together
with one another.
they're spread out,
wept out,
cried out,
but the tears of me.
tears of our souls.
today a masterpiece.
tomorrow a heartbreak.