My heart is a little tender
Becuase it’s been touched too many times
My heart is a little stretched
Too many feelings at one time
My heart is a little broken
Just a few cracks going down the middle
From when I thought I was losing you
But my heart is still here
And you can take it,
If you want a tender, stretched, cracked heart.
I really hope you do.
For some reason
You keep changing
For some reason
You are not the same person
That I first met
And For some unfathomable reason
I still love you
The end of a moive
The theater dark
Tears bubbling from my eyes
Falling over my cheeks
Tumbling until they hit the red chairs
You turning to me
We weren’t watching a sad movie,
Something else, I murmur, the movie was nice
What, you ask, what’s wrong
I use another one of my problems to calm your worries
A small problem
You probably think I’m stupid,
You’ve been through so much worse.
But the real reason I’m crying,
Is something I could never tell you.
It’s the fact
That you will go home
to where you live,
So far away
And you will have a friend
Who will get to love you as much as I
And you will make her feel whole
Make her feel wanted.
And I will be here,
Holding onto to the happy memories you gave me.
While you still could.
Everyone has told me
So many times
That I will be able to get over love
That with enough tape
I will be able to clean up this broken heart.
But I think it’s the opposite
I think with enough tape
You can pretend to be normal
With enough tape
You can paint over the holes in the wall
With enough tape
Someone else can love you
But loving them back is impossible
Because you always have cracks where the loves leaks out
I gave you my affection
And you let the flames of my love reflect in those wonderful deep eyes.
I gave you my heart
And you made a little origami crane with it,
letting it fly away into the dangerous waters of passion
it would’ve been lovely, except you watched it sink and now I feel nothing but pain.
I gave you my promise
And you gave me yours,
expect my promises mean everything and yours
yours mean nothing.
I gave you my belief
And you returned it with doubt,
You let my belief die with my heart.
And I’ve finally got it through my head,
I finally understand that,
You’ll never return anything that I,
Because I gave you my soul
And you gave me an empty house with a thick layer of dust.
My mind screamed at its self.
Why was I being such a drama queen?
No one cared.
No one wanted to hear me ramble about how hard I had.
Why couldn’t I get that through my thick head?
Why couldn’t I understand the fact that no one is here to listen?
‘No one cares. Be quiet.’ My brain told me, ‘Keep your head down. Write it on paper. The paper will listen.’
I fight the urge to yell at people. For one reason I want someone to hear.
And there is someone. But he seems far away. Distant.
For some reason I didn’t feel as close as I used too.
But now, now things are different.
I don’t tell people what they don’t care about hearing.
I know where to find him when I need to talk.
I know how to control the mental noise.
Man’s Red Flower, inspired by Rudyard Kipling:
Man’s Red Flower,
Fills you with power.
Man’s Red Fire,
Fills you with desire.
Man’s Red Weapon,
Beautiful, deadly, thrust upon,
Those who protect themselves,
And those who are greedy.
While the red flower is captivating,
It is fatal.
Luring it’s victims with it’s flame
Then using that same flame to burn everything in it’s path.