what if my walls are too difficult
to knock down?

what if my ribs are bulletproof,
will you still aim your gun?

what if i am shooting
and the distance is only there

to protect

you.

will you still love me
if i am slowly killing you?

will you still love me if all of my darkness
is in your hands
as if saying,

“here. here is your death.
let me **** you”?

i’m learning to see the love.

i’m learning to look at you
and not automatically see rage.

or fear.
or hurt.
or my father.

i will look at you and not see my father.

because you are kind
kind
kind

and there is actually so much love here.

and for once,
i can find it
without digging through
all the mud.

all the hurt.

In the grand spell of words, let me etch this sentiment into your heart –
I find myself so tired, like a Toyota limping along with a missing hubcap.
My carpet smile, never held the weight it should have; you revelled in
The tickle of my beard as our lips met. Yet, as soon as we grew distant,
I shaved it away, a symbol of our fading connection, a relic of this
Relationship becoming one of long distance.

Typing my feelings onto the screen, though the true message of them
Weren’t delivered so well, failing to convey the depth of my despair.
I began to loathe myself, believing that the love I once held for you
Was a tether, leading you on to lead you astray. “I’m sorry,” I whisper,
But deep down, I always knew you were destined for someone far
Greater than I could ever be, or at the very least, someone who would
See you as the answer to their most fervent prayers.

I guess you weren't the answer to my prayers...

I still crave the flavour of your skin, though it brings me great pain,  
As the flames of desire flicker and sway, we’ll endeavour to endure,  
Clinging tightly beneath the blazing sun, in summer's fierce allure,  
Together, trying to brave the tempests, in love's unyielding pursuit.  

Dinner awaits us at eight – do not tarry; dreams lie upon your plate,  
Nourished by my affection, a sip of your soft skin grazes my lips;  
Each touch of yours leaves me lost, grappling with how to respond –  
Your wisdom eclipses my own, a realm I can scarcely comprehend.  
No man has truly kissed every maiden under the sun, yet the world  
Shrinks for those who cross paths with the echoes of their past flames.  
Relative justice; I strive to connect, yet potential lovers have slipped  
Through my fingers, leaving me a solitary figure, comforted by a hand.  

And this fills me with grief, a tempest of shame; distanced by anguish,  
Haunted by choices that replay like relentless echoes in my mind.  
I dread living solely for another's affection, yet I fear even more  
The withering of my own love, fading into the abyss of neglect.

This soft heart I say, can feel like a curse,  
For all the times it soaks up the hate, oh, how it hurts!
As with each tear that I shed,  
It all feels heavy, heavy like lead,  
Till the floodgates burst forth in a verse.  

And I must tell you,

A soft heart is like a sponge, it takes every cut,  
An open heart: a vibrant marketplace; so never to shut!
But it was once vibrant and bright,  
Now it feels so dilapidated from fight,  
Yet still it beats on, as a true work of art.

Tick ... tock ...
Do you hear it?
The ticking of the clock?

Time waits for no one,
But ...
Please stop!

Time knows - I have no say.
Why, oh why?
Time, don't pass us bye.

First comes fear,
Then anger, then blame.
Why?  The question no one should ask.

Wait - slow down.
Stop!!
Just one more second?  I'll take it.

Acceptance creeps in, and
Lastly the weighty heaviness
Of the "closing time".

A dull, hulking thud
- So final,
deadly still.