there must be a place where broken words go
the ones without a limb
not fully formed
not spoken right
not heard

there must be a place where broken words go
the sentences left uncompleted
the trailing words that never left the lips
the "but" and the "and"
that were always left hanging

somewhere between silence and speech
there must be a place where broken words go
full of stutters and writers block sufferers
somewhere between the "i love"
and the "you" that never followed
or the "wait"
that was whispered into the air
the "please come back"
that made peace with dying
on the corners of a turning mouth

there must be a place where broken words go
the words spoken but never heard
the letters written but never posted
the train of thought that crashed into the clouds
the words in the bottle that traveled the sea
but sunk to the bottom before it could ever reach

there must be a place where my broken words go
the stains on my diary that didn't come from a pen
and the letters on my thighs that don't make sense
the things i could never say
and the things i said that came out all wrong
all the broken alphabets in my song
that cry for salvation
for one more chance

there must be a place where broken words go
there must be a place i can call home.

There is a poem I have yet to write,
For how does one write what only the heartless can feel?
I speak with shards of my memory,
For I am simply a shell of what once was.
I love with my blood draining from my veins to write life, love in the empty white spaces.
I am incapable of extracting my soul from the gallows where it remains chained to my hast been.
But one can pretend to comprehend the foreign language that is my one and only fear.. love...
For love is tempting and even the empty long for impossibility.
I can say I love you in a emotionless and heartfelt tone.
For I love you in my own coldness, seeing hope is still resting on one side of your ruins, while mine was emptied long ago.
I need not feed your ears or your heart lies to speed you to recovery, but am content to give you the tiny morsels of me that remain so that your wounds May bare only scars in remembrance.
I unlike you bare no signs of redemption, so I freely give you what is still free of rot and withering so that you may live with me.
I am simply and only a shell with little crystals to give,
For love once passed through me walking away with my soul, and love is now far beyond the reach of my door.