it's 3 o'clock
and i'm up staring
at the screen of my computer
trying to put some
kind of thought together
some kind of string of words.
god, it's already july.
i've survived a month
but i'm not sure how much longer.
if you do call i'm going to end up crying
babbling out i miss you,
and then you're never going to want me.
because how does someone describe the sound
of tears hitting the comforter
of a quiet night--alone.
there's not a perfect way
of describing loneliness,
of how the weighing down
of your soul feels.
there's no easy way
to describe feelings
for someone.

there's no way.
and it may just be the fact
that i'm not old yet.
and i don't know what love is.
but if i didn't
why on this small world
would i feel like my heart
is being wrenched from my chest
and provided on some silver platter
to a god who's supposed to help you fall in love
his arrows work backwards.
if anything--they work in lines.
or perhaps they don't work at all,
and all of this is just some ruse.
because love is more than a battlefield.
it'll destroy you from the inside out
and you'll be left
leaking the brokenhearted.
leaving craters,
and a gaping hole
where the heart should of been
before it made desertion.


|m.s.