I see love.
Does she see me
Or am I dust in the wind
Another soul to spend?
Because she's left me shattered.
There to pick up the tattered fragments;
Each fail is another stitch sown
On my death enriched stone
The thing I call a heart;
Desolate and dark.
Painful to accept,
But yet
It is apart of me,
The remaineder of my torched dreams,
And all the joyous screams,
A scarred note,
Of why I still hope.
