I Slept with Sorrow
Too many times, and
Limped through the endings
And accusations, of
Playing with her emotions.
As if it would get her off
The subject
At hand.

No curtain was thick enough
No room was dark enough
She didn't want me to see
Her weaknesses.
But it was okay
To hold her knees
And balance myself
Over the crevices
And her cracked heart-

Shaped when she turned away.
But not away. Just don't watch;
Happy tears confusing
Her grief-
Doesn't ever really go away.

And Sorrow made me sleep
An eon of my life
In shadows.
Because she believed
That scars should
Have no rights
To live with us
And our functioning things.

But I never close
A curtain all the way.
She didn't see the ending
Coming.

You.
Your body is a menagerie
Of dares; Close calls
From life's sharp edges.
Your scars line up
At the end of mine
Like the continuance
Of the tracks.
We've taken the same paths.

How much further we've gotten
Realizing that life is spent
Fleeing sorrow.

How much further can we get.
Love is is never spent
One sided.
Switching sides,
Because our scars meet up
Both left and right.
Bodies can take advice.

Sorrow sweeps with
A plastic broom,
Alone in her room.
Eight pillows surrounding; Preventing
Accidents from happening.
Her lover hums its tune
Of solitude.