There is a big chance I will die of a broken heart disease
a disease where a licensed medical professional is not able to cure.
It is not pneumonia or hypertension… is just is a disease of a heart
that has been broken into fragments. It is a poet’s nightmare because
it is not easy to write or to capture in words. It is not contagious
because the disease is personalized to every victim. I hope I find cure
before I succumb to it.
A soulful wish to translate an empty canvas
into a full thriving life
walking carefully through the roads of today
until the dusk has said its last litany of the day.
I’ve let my lips get parched from thirst for life
for someone to open his arms and let me live in them.
Maybe it is not my sympathetic heart that failed us
I’ve slowly come to know the old and withered reason
why our relationship failed. It is because your other foot
was always out the door. You’ve never let yourself fully in.
Throughout our time the doorway to us has been always open to you.
To fully participate…maybe I was never good enough for you.
I trace fading footprints along the riverside
chasing the shadowy past with bated breath
hoping to get a slice of it that will give me
some needed closure.
I saw the branches of the trees, swaying with
the touch of a breeze. As if to send me a sign
to let it go.
You come to me in bits and pieces
a glimpse as fast as lightning
such fleeting moments in my dreams.
You speak to me in rainbows and moonbeams
I hear you on cloudy days in distorted language
of rain and thunderstorms.
You capture my attention like snowflakes hitting the window pane
You hold my heart so delicately in your hands and I long to see the depth of your soul.
I build a wall around my heart
not wanting for it to get hurt
I surrounded myself with poetry
and wisdom only to find myself
wanting more…something more
to color my days and to stir my nights
Regretting the past
crying our eyes out
will never bring back the joy
of our youthful times.
Generously giving ourselves
only to end up empty.