I loved you so much harder than I did myself
The same way I love everyone
Because when I saw you
The details didn't catch my eye
Your selfishness and your apathy
I saw your soul
And I focused on it until there was nothing else left of you
The same way I always do

At the end of every day
I wash of everyone I have loved
I rinse their souls out of me
And I stand in front of the mirror
Naked
Searching for mine

take my heart
I do not care
it does not beat
it is not there

my souls gone missing
where it once was found
it won't return
buried in the ground.

my eyes have lost that love-struck shine
my gaze is keen for a missing mind
my feet won't walk
and my voice won't sing
that which might talk
will never speak.

The words within have dried and burnt
a thousand pages
I once wrote.
An empty saga of sonnet prose
a withered thing
where there once, a rose.

The hands grow old
the body, weary
all said and told
the eyes grow bleary
despite my efforts
however valiant and true
I can't believe it
when you say "I love you."

Because if love was what you meant
then a future we might have
and one without the other
is just a temporary salve
to a wound that will not heal
a heart-wound left in wake
of a dream that you would steal
from a prayer that you'd take.

Empty lovers and promises forgot
a world of victims soulsearching their lot
poetry leaving graffiti in the schools
convincing lovers that they're simply tools
for this generation there is no maturing
no growth or care or truth
just flourid words that, waning
cause collapsing of the roof.

And you wonder why the tears fall
why the beat in my chest goes weak
these are the words of a lover
that she never got to speak.

Even looking at the word ‘imagine’ sparks my imagination.. It feels magical, to create with our minds. We are capable of so much beauty and destruction and Love and fear.. so maybe, we just need to choose to be magical, and imagine our lives as a blessing, to strive towards the giving of ourselves for the sake of others, trusting that God or the Universe or Him or Her has got our backs when they are against a wall, and to believe in angels and signs and prayer and hope.. to focus on things unseen and the green grass, the sunshine, and places called Home.. trusting in friendship and connections and soulsearching Love, and fate that is loosely painted by the brush strokes of our bodies and with the colors of our intentions.. holding on to the knowing that God’s grace is flowing and holding on to us like a
teacher guiding each stroke, some seem so ugly and gross in the moment but.. each one is just part of a wholehearted masterpiece, just waiting to behold.