Every time I think I am getting over
you,
A friend comes home
And says,
”You’re better off, boo”;
Or
an underwear
You
left
behind,
Sneaks out of our drawer,
And fucks with my mind;
Or
I see some guy
Walking down the street…
And I am reminded
of your
Hair,
or eyes,
or gait,
or feet –
And, no matter what therapy I have gainfully employed,
You
descend on my heart,
And I find it
destroyed.
After a journey that led me back home,
I washed my hands of viruses
And chanced to see the mirror.
I noticed my shirt askew:
The fold of the collar was bent inward…
I thought about you.
If you were there,
You’d have turned it upright,
In the middle of the road.
I would have smiled;
You would have, too.
And neither would have to say
I love you.
Was it all a lie?
I cannot tell. I do not know.
He promised he’d stay;
But then I watched him go.
Every flower knows,
The bee will return;
The sun can tell
How the moon yearns;
The shore feels the tide,
It understands the sea;
But these metaphors
Everyone can not see.
I guess I am one who
Knows the heart not his head,
Yet they both lie now
Quite broken in this bed.
Hearts Still Care 
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