She asked me to get drunk
and write poems.
I've been around the Sun
Thirty times and can tell you
that love is like
reading Bukowski

And Jesus
and all of us
wept while the sun
fled west to Copernicum
With roses in her wake

I wanted you to be the one
But for now we can’t have that
Everlooming fights and
grasps for attention
We aren’t “us” anymore
Im not “me” anymore
and we need to find that again

Right now you cant love me and I cant love you

but maybe one day..

I
am
healing
but I don't want you to take off your shoes in my home yet

I
am
healing
but I'm still afraid of your touch

I
am
healing
but while I'm healing, you're burning like a broken electric wire, and while you burn you bloom

so yes, I am healing
slowly
trembling
feeling numb
but healing

Your mouth is too full of the words you're about to say to swallow what I'm telling you. Your ears are too blocked with the sounds of what you think you're hearing to listen to my desperate cry for help. Your eyes are too clouded by what you want to see to be able to perceive what you've done. You're oblivious; can't you see you're killing me? I love you.

You live in,
A broken home,
With a shattered window,
And a disconnected phone.

You travel with,
Your broken feet,
With rough pathways,
Leading to a blocked off street.

You see through,
Black and white eyes,
With a look so unwelcoming, tiring,
As you're badly disguised.

You sing as,
A bird in the woods,
Soothing and caring,
But fading away from the neighbourhoods.

I listen to your broken voice,
On a broken street,
With your broken eyes,
Hearing your broken heart beat.

And now I'm slowly breaking,
Make room for me,
Because with you on a broken street,
Is where I'm destined to be.