take away my ability to dream.
so there is one less reality,
in which,
you break my heart.

Now that it’s over, or so you say,
I feel compelled to wait another day,
For you to cry, for you to miss me.
I have visions that you kiss me
And forget about how I hurt you
But even that aches; I still desert you,
On every single day.

You said you want me gone,
That all is lost and you’re alone.
Yet somewhere deep behind my shame,
I hear you whispering my name.
I tell you in absentia: “I never meant to hurt you.”
That I was deserting my old self and not you.
And yet I come back and you’re still gone.

Would it help if I said it was never about you?
Or does that hurt because it really was?
Would you understand that I didn’t yet deserve you?
Or does it feel too much like a stumbling pause
Between the beauty thing that was you and me
And the pull of a deserted house, a dangerous key?

I was sick and lost for so many years,
Drying my own sorrow with another’s tears.
The emptiness I felt inside was hidden,
Behind another’s hell.
I looked in the mirror to find myself
And saw a backward road on a path I knew too well.
Trying to escape—it was not love but addiction
That pulled me back to a tragic fiction.

And now I live in a no-man’s land.
I reach out in the night to grasp your hand,
Expecting to feel you there,
Imagining climbing up the stair
To reach you in the light,
As I used to do when things were right.
But now it’s over,
We’re nowhere now.
I’m sorry, so sorry my love!
I still will find you somehow.

. . . Does she
                   Kiss you goodbye before
    You leave for work in the morning?

Do you miss her on the week nights
        That she doesn't spend in
   your (our) bed?

             Do you think she picks out
   Places she wants to go
        On the map printed on the
             Inside of the shower curtain
That I only bought
                            Because you liked it

       I find something to miss about you
Every
                  Single
             Day
But it doesn't hurt like it used to

I'm not asking
         Because I'm afraid that you love her

I'm afraid that maybe, you don't . . .

What is most saddening?
When they think they are joking,
That sarcasm goes pretty well,
The world laughs,
But to you it's a stab,

Or when they say you "thank you",
But you smile and say "it's okay",
But they leave in a blink of an eye,
You don't only feel replaced,
But they make you feel invisible,

Or when they walk beside you,
Like you never knew them,
Like you were no one,
Like things never happened,

Or when they approach you,
You feel they need you,
You feel you should be there,
So you stand with them,
Until the end,
But it wasn't because they needed you,
It was because of their own reason,
They needed only thing they were looking for,
Or when they call you useful ,
Or when they call you useless,
Because you were not enough for them,

Or when they call you a friend,
But behind is their other reason
Or another face,
That you are too scared to see,

Or when they call you worthless,
Or when they call you heartless,
Without knowing how you lost your heart,
When you did and why you did,
But you and only know the truth.