Sitting here alone,
the cold and unknown,
the raw and tender revealed
but to me.
For you opened me up,
revealed whats true
prying, prodding,
to search for a thought
holy or impure.
Some things remain mine,
some beliefs precious,
and some only known
through you.
Then nothing.
You close, you retreat,
you become a stranger to a friend,
and a wanderer in a welcome place.
Minor in some eyes,
major in your head,
the fleeing of your soul,
leaves others and their flanks exposed.
A call for return,
a begging for salvation,
with nothing but self to offer,
not a before nor an after.
Too late, too slow,
its gone forever,
never to be seen,
nor to be sought
a nerve now atrophied.
Some say it will heal,
some say another will cure,
but the heart says never.
Never to expose without a sign,
and only a cold and broken remains,
aloof and assured,
but hurt within.
Who knows I ask?
who can tell what will be,
and who can want to?
For a reason unknown we do,
we open, we hurt,
we close, we reveal,
not as a sweet symphony sound,
but a harsh and crass cry.
Its said you become better,
and don't give up,
Its said its worth it,
so keep trying.
Maybe
Greetings from Philadelphia
21 hours ago
