Of Heartbreak

April 20, 2004

I close my eyes as he says,
"Don't trust me - I can't
give you what you want."

Inside, the bursting light of pain
displays as fireworks on the
pink skinscreen of my eyelids.

"I can't give you what
you most want, anymore,"
he repeats.

With pain now pitched higher,
I ask him,
"How is it you're so sure
you ever could?"

Black silence, head numb,
heartbeat, breath slowed down,
but he has more to say.

"No longer, now, that dream
can ever hope to live,
and so I tell you again,
if nothing else,
your heart should
shatter with mine."

Eyes open, with cynical shrug,
I cast one last reply,
"How do you break what is
already in a million pieces?"