I heard an old song
Sing its pain;
It reminded me
Of us again.
Old songs do that:
Sifting their tune,
Cradled on lost stars
And a forgotten moon.
The words aren’t the same:
They are rusty hooks
And dried old flowers
In dusty books.
It always befalls
That the singer is me;
And what we were
Becomes his melody.
It’s three minutes
Of our past;
Yet, it’s these three
That will last.
She warned of a lover’s fate;
But I ascribed it to hate;
So, I neglected her view;
And fought her with words, too.
I am a fool in love,
Until push comes to shove;
So, when death came calling,
My heart was done stalling.
As promises lay broken,
While I pulled down each token,
Her words hung in the air,
“Most are not fools. Beware.”
I have heard of lovers becoming strangers…
And that losing your heart begets these dangers.
I’ve heard that the person who promises you life –
Can expose your veins and hand you a knife…
Maybe a time of love is truth, all too true,
Maybe it fosters lies – being no longer new.
I have heard of such things…
I have heard lovers betray;
I have heard of the reasons why most love fails to stay…
You can delete the chats and burn every letter;
You can cut up each photo to make life better;
But,
If you have loved –
And I have heard it’s true –
One love can never end, though another starts anew…
And though it must be done –
Giving up and letting go –
I’ve heard It’s never easy –
But this you already know.
Yet this must be done, for I’ve heard this is how you grow.
Hearts Still Care 
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