For all the promises made,
And all declared vows to keep,
When need arises to prove –
Just turn over and sleep.
With all the blood that rushes
In to wounds that run so deep;
When hopeful chance comes to heal,
Just turn over and sleep.
As a heartache comes coursing,
Forcing one to lay and weep,
When gentlest words are needed –
Just turn over and sleep.
Maybe it is all karmic:
One sows in order to reap;
So, when harvest comes calling,
You must turn over and sleep.
I watched the waves.
They crashed into the rocks.
A done-to-death metaphor.
I saw the foam stick.
I saw the spray hit the air.
While you slept.
Blissful.
The trend of all lovers.
Once the passion is dead.
The sea will recede.
The rocks at least have faith.
The sea will return.
I walk back home.
To my side of the bed.
Sleepless and faithless.
They warn me I speak too much of my heart:
I am too vocal about what I think:
I mention every thought right at its start:
Way before the mind and heart form a link.
They say I am too childlike and confess
All that I know; let my truth rule my voice;
And let my conscience turn its duress,
On certainties, both traumatic and nice.
I know not what power compels me so,
To hone neither tact nor diplomacy;
I love, I laugh, I cry, I feel, I show –
I may do it all quite complacently.
No burden of regret makes me believe;
I go on wearing my heart on my sleeve
Hearts Still Care 
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