After-taste

Another day spent lamenting the loss of love and the birth of loneliness
Sprung up like a weed of interruption amidst the flowers in my beaten soul
Beating but cold
I'm but a fragment of the
Sentence I used to be
Can't find the middle or the end because you
Walked away with the words that made sense
And I'm stuck here in the shadows muttering half eaten memories
And gathering crumbs of a love I used to taste, breathe in and know
Now I'm starving
& refraining from acknowledging the look in your eyes
Every time you said I love you, your most painful lie

.saturate.

Saturate my present with memories of your past and leave my future dry
I'm building a dam to keep what's behind us out
Current love pending with creation of a foundation that can
Withstand the red ink, yellow tape and glaringly obvious stench of moral decay
The most beautiful part of a damaged wing is that it's still struggling to fly
Save me as I save you

fck it.

When your heart becomes something to be played with rather than something to have, hold, cherish & protect.
When your heart becomes a punching bag, beaten every day at the gym, used for someone else's frustrations & then left in the darkness.
When your heart become a pile of flattened rubber like tire caught on a nail.
When your heart becomes a joke, a reason for stand up, an attraction at parties, an object for entertainment at your expense.
When your heart becomes like grains of sand falling between the fingertips of someone as quickly as their memory of you fades.
When your heart becomes a non factor