His heart was old and wounded and scared
It had been broken and bruised
and burned until there was not even ash left
It had dreamt and lost and cried more tears than stars in the sky and prayed to never fall again
To never feel empty and absent
or miserable and abused
and for the death it felt inside to be its quite and final resting place
It clung desperately to the want of never
And then there was her
And colors pulsed in its blood
And dreams were painted on its walls
And her name burned into its skin
Then his heart beat as if it was just taking in its first breath
And all of its cracks and scars and bruises faded and it couldn't remember shedding a single tear or ever having been broken
And the beauty of love was found again
In the soft curves of her smile and the magic of the colors swirling in her eyes
And nothing else mattered
Nothing but her

when you ask me: how do you feel?
what i say is: I'm good, how are you?
when i really mean: I'm scared. of loosing the fight,
i  feel hopeless, i almost lost last night.

when you ask: do you want to eat?
what i say is: no I'm not hungry. i had a big lunch
when what i really mean is: yes. i haven't eaten in days.
please tell me to eat because i will if you tell me to.

when you say: you look sad, are you aright?
what i say is: yeah I'm fine. i just finished a sad book.
when what i mean is: no. I'm not. please help me because
i feel lost. and alone. I'm scared.

when you ask me: why don't you smile more?
i say: i don't know
but i really mean: i feel to alone to smile.
and i don't have the energy to.

when you ask me: what wrong?
all i say is: nothing
but inside I'm screaming: i feel like i can't breathe.
the sun is to bright it hurts my eyes. can you help me?

so listen to my words and if i ever say: I'm alright
know that I'm most definitely not alright.
its okay its not your fault you didn't hear
i hid my thoughts
but i live in fear.

Something about souls
Maybe we knew each other in a past life

Maybe we were trees in Eden
we grew next to each other
our roots tangled
our branches touched and when the wind blew through
our leaves whispered the same tune

Maybe we were teardrops from a great poet's eyes
we met and formed a stream down his cheek
as he shed us for his lost love
and mourned the death of his heart

Maybe we were penguins
winter time; I'd fish, you'd nurture our egg
come spring; we'd meet by the sea,
you'd call out for me, I'd find you and
our bodies would move clumsily in a perfect rhythm of happiness