My internal world does not match the exterior
I open my eyes and the flourishing trees
Are bare and shivering
Your face has grown old, years of pain,
Yet I did not see it change.

Your prickly chin now rest above my head
Now hung in dispare, trying to disconnect the past;
My present

The pain you bring is the pain I create
The tides don't pull when I'm not by the sea
The rain doesn't fall when I can't feel the tears of the sky
The wind doesn't sing when I don't feel the rush
The sun doesn't shine when I'm locked in the dark

And my heart doesn't best when it does not belong to you.

If you come as softly
As the wind within the trees
You may hear what I hear
See what sorrow sees.

If you come as lightly
As threading dew
I will take you gladly
Nor ask more of you.

You may sit beside me
Silent as a breath
Only those who stay dead
Shall remember death.

And if you come I will be silent
Nor speak harsh words to you.
I will not ask you why now.
Or how, or what you do.

We shall sit here, softly
Beneath two different years
And the rich between us
Shall drink our tears.