My heart is screaming,
grieving in pain and I'm unsure if it's louder than the scream in my mind that tells me to wake up before I'm all out of time
to resent all those things I ripped out of my soul to pour into your hands
when you let it slips through your fingers like sand.
I expose my flesh, my substance
to make and impression
to spark up your desire and take pleasure in your expression.
But blinded by so much fear because it is all I know
when I look at myself and the world, so where do I go
to stop all the madness?
To you, your hands.
You remember my skin
so I indulge in your touch
and take comfort in the heat of your body with sin.
Since I know your heart is stone cold so it doesn't mean much,
as you whisper sweet nothings so tightly you clutch
onto my body and quiver
with desire as the warmth goes straight to my soul; I shiver
and trust
that your heat is not just carnal, that we are much more than lust.
But my mind is very keen it knows what you are.
As I try to keep what it is saying so far
away and ignore it since I feel so alive
as the aura around us takes form of the fire that burns in my chest and I shutter---
at how much we yearn for each other.
A flame so intense that I thought it would last
a long time between us but then suddenly you passed
as if nothing has happened between you and I---
and a cry
deep within me says I can't say goodbye.
So why
did you leave?
Why doesn't it hurt you to keep walking away
as I lay crumpled on the floor in dismay.
I am empty and somber, I am numb to sensation
when I realize:
I broke my heart, with my own expectation.
