I sat on my heart, tucked away in my back pocket. The pain I felt could not be compared to what you claimed you felt when in an attempt to handle yours, it slipped and fell, bounced all over the cold hard floor and settled in exhaustion right at the foot of the trash bin sitting in a lonely corner of my abandoned room. This is the kind of declaration that angers many.
I forgot my heart in my back pocket and accidentally squashed it underneath the slight weight of my mean backside. Blasted Karma or a big joke on me, to have my fairly absent heart crashed to nothing by an ass.
I hide, writhing, heartless and dying, and you come in with yours, aching, saying your goodbyes with such moving sincerity I wonder what it is that has made you so foolishly generous with love.
You look sadly at me and say;
“This is how you will sit in one dark stinking corner of your filthy room and curse yourself. Tell me your eyes are used to not seeing and your nose relishes the stink. Tell me your entire being will react violently to comfort and painlessness is your bane. This is how you will sit right there and rot, you sad, sad one, not oriented to love, content to die. This is how you will selfishly deny those who look up to you the chance to see you rise with fuel to fire up their hopes.
If you would stop hurting yourself and listen…I really just came here to say I love you. I still do.”
At once, the light…the light from the words you have uttered blinds me….leaving me groping for you till you hold my hand
“I can’t see…”
and you whisper,
…that is love.”