Thursday, September 6, 2007


The cure eludes me
Give me a medication
A prescription
For a broken heart
To pick up the pieces
Of a shattered image

...there isn't one...

If my heart stopped beating
Maybe it wouldn't hurt so much
I'd stop bleeding
If I stopped breathing
Then I'd have an excuse
For being speechless
If I were blind
Then maybe I could see

I've seeked comfort in the wrong place
Too many times before
My legs are broken
From falling for her
And my scars run deep

How long will it take to heal?

1 comment:

Iwalktheline said...

Hauntingly beautiful...another favorite of mine, I've felt this way in so many different situations...I think possibly the scars are what make us who we are good and bad


word = speaking/singing
(word) = whispering/echo
[word] = stern voice/screaming