Pieces of my heart -

In my moments of weakness, my love attached to things that served no purpose. Served no purpose, but served me heartbreak, lessons of love & how to forgive. 

What is loneliness ? It’s not bad, it’s not a punishment. A sense of purpose & fulfillment it gives, a moment of peace and clarity. How can my thoughts quiet when I’m constantly surrounded by the noise of others’ pain ? If I could ease the suffering of everything I touched, such ache wouldn’t actively exist. Like others, I’m only a soul experiencing another life. A gift, incomparable. 

The words that tend to drift from me, always find their way into my poetry. My emotions nurture my soiled seeds, & with years of growth, trees of knowledge and wisdom encase my spirit. 

& even when it’s time to rest, do I still cry in my sleep. I hope to have pleasant dreams, and not ones that keep me up at night.

 I harbor too much in, & still I am constantly sinking. 

 I’ll soon learn to float, and be present around those who tread. 

Where do these tears go when they fall? Do they water the earth, & bring these wilted flowers to life. Do they provide thirst to the tiny colonies under the attic, do they heat my face when I’m submerged into the cold. 

Where do these tears go when they fall? They constantly seem to resurface from my eyes. They burn from the heat, but I am not blind.

This isn’t really poetry.. 

maybe.

Maybe it’s a page full of rants that my tiring mind has been raging to get out. 

I tend to believe I have a way with my words. 

But I won't digress.

“I”

I can write a poem of words, I can write out a dream that lives on paper.

If those words may dwell, synchronized into a positive insight- others could thrive off of what bubbles their heart, & what sets their being to bloom…

I can write a song of bliss, the missing love, the summer's kiss. 

A note in tune with the strings of the heart.

&

If those sounds linger, being a hum to someone’s lips- a new life could fall asleep to its nuturer’s silk voice. 

I can write a letter of sorrow, a grieving heart, the loneliness of a nostalgic mind.

& if those words have meaning, someone will understand the box my emotions have been suspended in, and maybe heal my penetrating wounds. 

“II” 

Sweet lover, why do you run from me? 

I know your past pain causes you grief. 

Please dwell into me and see there’s no fear in my love;

For you'd get the purest parts of me that only you were meant to see.

“III”

I left you pieces of me that could’ve been kept to patch up my wounds. 

You assured me that your love was vital to the health of my heart, but I only leave with my soul.

I’ll drift off to the realm of my shadows and into comfort.