You wake to find love crushed at your doorstep. As if overnight someone had tried to slip it under but it was too big, too unfamiliar to fit in your chest.
The earth shakes and all the cities under your skin are falling. And no one is around to hear it. Are you still broken if nobody witnessed your collapse? So you carry it with you.

All this crushed love, these quivers of excrutiating pain. And they never tell you how hard it is to lose love in people. How at night you can still feel your heart tugging towards them.



Friday 031315

One of mine,
wanting it all to have been a metaphor, 
has only fallen listless–
O, to be caught in the middle of the bell curve:
it is smoke and trepidation
in my head.