living

Doesn’t it get lonely?
Living the way you do,
 shutting out people and only paying attention to those with detail
 because somehow you can use those details as thread in your life
to help you patch the blank spaces
 that you chose to forget or can’t seem to remember.


Doesn’t it get cold?
 Can’t seem to stop the wind from blowing in.
 too many cracks in the wall you hide
 behind colorful wall paper and beautiful paintings
 that portray your good but begin to drip horror stories
 when your bad side is shown only to mess up personalities
and master pieces, masks and hidden agendas.

Does it send shivers down your spine
when I read you better than you can read yourself?
When I look into your eyes and see the demons that hunt you
making your soul their home.
 Moving about furniture and dying your blood black
with illusions and infatuation with ideas of you being a higher being.
 I see the fights you face daily,
 the choices you chose,
 the people you please and hearts you hurt.


Does it make you feel good
 when you wipe away the tears that find themselves on my face?
Wet and salty with emotion from last night,
 big and fat from tear ducts that never seem to run dry,
 but have cried way to many times.
 I left my battles to fight yours because
 I didn’t want to watch you kill yourself.
I stripped off the wall paper
 and filled the cracks with cement of love,

 how do you not feel it?
How do you use those same walls to keep me away from you?

What is it like to forget my voice,
 to live in silence?
 Forget about vibrations against
ear drums and hearts that turn numb in the silence you choose to ignore
 and yet you acknowledge because it surrounds you
 like gloves do hands and boots cover feet,
 the faint sound of a heartbreaking.
 It is hard to be sure since the silence was
 so
 very
large and the sound of a heart breaking,
 is so very small.
 A molecule of sound in a universe of silence…