I feel the plates of the earth pushing us apart
We grind and we glide but we never let go
I think about you there in the cold winters
On my tiny island
In my inferno
I think about the scruff on your face
The rose in your cheeks
I wonder about your scent
I think about the way your skin must feel
Underneath another's nails
But in truth I know I deserve no claim
My loyalty came with a price
And to be fair
The wound is still raw
Still open
Still waiting
If waiting for the past makes me a fool
Then to hell with wisdom
I won't swallow this
But today is not the day
For resolutions

Prep me for surgery.
I don’t know what’s happening.
This is an emergency.
A medical mystery.
Here’s my consent in writing.
My heart is gone, picked up and left.
Find me a new one.
Then sew it in my chest.

I am the Tin Man.
Colored hearts on my sleeve.
Drinking from an oil can.
Empty as can be.
With a map of misguided direction.
And the burning of my isolation.
I am the Tin Man.
Broken like you see.

I no longer have the heart to love.
Of course you refused and denied.
Wanting the things I couldn’t give.
You kicked me to the curbside.
How sad it must be.
Being the name no one will miss.
But I’ll mark you down on my list.
Even if it hurts to reminisce.

My joints are rusted through.
The hinges scream and grind.
Damage was all we really knew.
Tearing through body and mind.
The things that were stolen.
We now must replace.
At the bottom of the stairs.
And in the lines we erased.

Put me back together.
Give me back my skin.
I’d rather die from a broken heart.
Than live as a piece of tin.
Send a pulse to the vein.
Tune the drum at my core.
I am not an empty frame.
The Tin Man is no more.

ringing ringing ringing
the phone off the hook
hoping hoping hoping
he’ll give back what he took

what he took is my heart
ran away with it
so I continue calling
it hurts, I’ll admit

when he doesn’t answer
and I hear that blessed beep
always in my head
even at night, counting sheep

the ringing never stops
for the phone is never picked up
and I continue to swallow
pills down, with water from my cup

they make me feel content
sometimes for just a moment
to help my bleeding heart
they’re just another component

I hear the ringing in my head
day and night it never stops
similar to the screaming sirens
heard when circled by the cops

ringing ringing ringing
making my ears bleed
the ring replaced by his voice
that is all I need

the sound in my crazy mind
the ringing of his phone
will he ever pick up his end,
or am I left alone?