I wish I never broke your heart
I think it broke mine too
I still think about it every day
I don't know what to do
I see you in my past
I see you in my head
The past is the past
but I find myself there instead
Its harder than yes or no
complicated because of me
I wish we could switch spots
so from my side you could see
It might have been different
something we won't know
Moving on is hard for me
but I guess I have to go
Just as water runs, so does he.
He can't be contained, like a river running to a waterfall. Even with all his strength and power, he can't help but choose the path he is on. All I was to him was simply the dam to restrain his natural stride. He does as he wants, not needing to have an excuse. It's just nature, isn't it? He's the river and I'm the waterfall.
Falling for his guise, hoping that I'll run back into him soon enough.
Reflections in broken mirrors
through watery eyes.
Maybe it's not the mirror that's broken.
If only I was able to get to the other side.
I'd see tears on a red face
and see pain and hurt and sadness.
There's no sound on the other side.
The mirror isn't broken and neither are any of the people there.
They're all empty.
They can't help us from the other side.
They just watch.
Wait, what side am I on?
You can water your plants.
You can walk your dog everyday.
You can feed the birds in the park.
But the day that you forget to sustain your plants,
or are too busy to cater to your dogs need for the outdoor experience,
or run out of bird food for the park,
things tend to fall out of balance.
so do the dogs
and the birds.
They start to believe in an entitlement to your generous acts.
Something I've learned
is that it's not always your job to take care of someone else.
There's always rainstorms,
and picnic crumbs
waiting for their turn to take care of someone.
I used to feel pressure for having to be the source of someone's happiness.
last night I talked
with the ones upstairs
and I asked them if
there was someone there
to help with pain
and to help with truth
but it rang and rang
until I felt no use
What happened after that?
What happened when all the lights went out in the storm?
Did you feel afraid or did it make you feel reborn?
What happened before?
What happened before your heart knew how it felt?
Did you accept or did you challenge the cards you were dealt?
What happens now?
Because I don't know how I feel
and I can't tell whether this storm is real.
Heartbeats sound like thunder,
dwelling from under,
and now I hate when it rains.
All the stuff is gone, tangible,
but the memories still stand in the corner like he once did
A room of love and hurt and laughter
Boxes hold belongings
and the walls hold in the voices and whispers of admiration
They bounce back and forth off the paper thinness that holds this place together
All the stuff is gone, tangible
The whole room is empty
yet it’s full and I can't box up memories