What Do You Think?
I Hate To Break It To You This Way
All I can keep telling myself is that you’ll be back.
I’ve shut everyone else out and,
the trenches in my head are pouring with anxiety.
These reckless days go on and self-defacement,
continues and still the while,
crowned empowerment lies in these hands that,
heedlessly go about their sick-minded duties.
Careful judgment and placement caress the thoughts of tomorrow,
seemingly you were there once and your shadows,
have torn apart the residual suicide notes.
These notes were not meant to be,
however were made by the heedless hands,
that created the monster inside you.
Embracing all that once was, and all that is there now…
I smell dust and cheap residue of your body and sick psyche.
A hand that grasps and touches it’s way inside,
and out.
My love, my love, it’s all over and done with.
I hate to break it to you this way, but she will never love you again.
Finally, these vexing movements have broken apart and,
shown through the shadows and the darkness.
You’ve lost all that’s come to you,
young man, can I help you?
I hate to break it to you this way, but she will never love you again.
A vacant body overpowers her mind…
reaching for you, towards you…she’s releasing more to you.
Would you ever make her smile again,
whilst putting a flower into her hair,
she dreams about your vacant body.
Raise your own hand for death, she shall keep hers down.
You left her heavily and recklessly alone,
yet you expect a payment, still?
There were things you’ve said you were going to do…
and most her dreams never came true.
What came before you left her, straight-edge nights, heart-ached nights?
And as she sits here and writes this all down,
she will always remember the way you looked at her and the way she smiled.
And I hate to break it to you this way,
but she’ll never love again.
© Emily Mortensen 2:46am---9/6/05