and at the end of the day
in the cold, dead night
when the city’s asleep
I’m left with only my thoughts
that seem to subside
after hours of relentless unrest

the more i think about it now
the memories are a blur
they fade in and out
but then again
are memories things you have
or things you’ve lost?
memories of people
who loved me by mistake
and those out of pity
and some for fear of loneliness
whose love was never meant to stay
and i turned skyward and sighed reminiscently
then the Moon whispered through my window
in a gentle breeze:
“it matters not, in what capacity they loved you
but of great import is that you loved them with all your might
even when you thought you couldn’t. now they’re gone and you’re broken.
your body can’t love you and your will that won’t save you
and from that, you have to grow
and repair with stitches where they pulled you apart
sit with your pain but only then
will you learn and move
towards everything your heart has wished for under the guise of dreams
when you were fast asleep.”