You see,
love is a funny thing,
the way it just dangles in the air --
hangs there --
above the hole in your chest
were the last head used to rest.
And when she speaks
she draws circles on the scars
making them feel so far away,
but it was really just yesterday.
It's a funny thing the way
she doesn't mind the blood --
scooping the pieces that were shattered
the last time love committed suicide
in my chest.
And when she breathes
I can feel, again,
the temptation to stop holding
my own, and
recognize the fundamental truths
that don't seem to matter
after surviving years of abuse;
That loneliness wouldn't be
the death of me.
You see,
your love is a funny thing,
the way it saved me.

11/21/2013

Posted on 11/21/2013
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