I wish I would have 2nd heart  ,
I would still  have given second one 2 u  ,
2 break it like u did with first 1,
and with a smile still cares that pieces would not hurt ur feet.................

Memories crumble to dust
Bricks of remembrance
Thrown angrily from the windows of my eyes
Shattering the glass seven floors up

At the bottom
The feet of those on the first floor
Had to walk on shards of regret
A treacherous, ****** movement
And in the end got no where
But back to the stained carpets
Screaming inside the walls
Of a house
Not a home

The second floor
Tenants fell to their knees
Begging for the first floor
To relax
The commotion was just
Too much too handle
Rattling the weakened, buckled walls

The third floor
They were frightened from the up rise of chaos
Got sick to the stomach
And doubled over in pained retrospect
Because they left their windows open
And swallowed air
Instead of pride

The fourth floor
Was broken beyond repair
Cracked right down the middle
Blood seeped from it's fissured walls
Like an arrow wound to the heart
Those inside sprawled in puddles of conflict

The fifth floor
Was out of bandages
For the fourth floor
They used them for mouth covers
So the sixth floor above couldn't smell
The lies on their breath

The sixth floor
Always did hold a nose in the air
But that couldn't hide them from trouble
They were stuffy, and often full
As though the tears that often ran down the bridges
Were more than the emotional pressures
They could carry at once

The seventh floor
Was tired of everything
Constantly red and with teary eyes
They stared down upon the whole scene
Disgusted with the image presented
So they threw the newest memories out
And watched them crumble to dust
Seven floors down

i kept running* from the thoughts constructed by her existence
i kept running from the echoes of her voice which linger within these dark walls
i kept running till i reached sunlight
only to discover that the memories of her are attached to my soul
the same way my shadow is attached to my feet

I think I'm on my feet again
Can you feel it? Can you feel it?
Don't know how or why or when
Can you feel it? Can you feel it?
I think I'm on my feet again
Can you hear it? Can you hear it?
Tell me where do I begin
I can't hear it. I can't hear it.

I count my steps,
my heart like some
mis-ticking pedometer
uneven and syncopated
disassociated and dislocated
     with my head in the clouds
I found, retracing my steps,
my foot in my mouth
all the while we kissed.

No wonder, then
that you tasted like
the roads we traveled together,
each time more insipid than the last,
and each word I spoke
was muddled
dry and bland
or saturated and sticking
under fingernails
between your teeth