I'll never heal
Cause I'm not sick.
It's how we're made.
I'll never heal cause I'm not broken.
It's how we're made.
We get attached to people.
We claim them as a major part of our lives.
We never bother
To question whether our presence in theirs matters
My heart won't heal. It isn't broken.
Hearts are supposed to host the dearest of companions,
To cherish every word they utter, to hold tight
On all the moments, all the conversations,
To crave for more and never get enough attention,
To never question whether this proclaimed haven
Is well deserved--is safely claimed--is fairly earned.
My mind won't heal. It isn't broken.
Minds always paint a picture centered on ourselves,
Surrounded by their favored people.
Minds can't imagine for a second a broader picture
Where life can happen--where things can change--where people die.
I cannot heal. I am not broken. My world is.
Without you here, I can't get over the withdrawal.
To whom can I confess my newly discovered dependence?
The words escape me. You're not here to catch them for me.
The feelings fly and dance around. I can get hold of them no more.
Why bother to tame them if I lack a place to contain them?
You used to be all that and more but now you're gone.
I try to cope with the new world. I try to focus
But every part of me that met you has to mourn you.
And one by one they snap out of their denial.
Now it is time for a futile attempt to give you justice.
The part of me who writes has now to honor your memory.
I pity him!
All words will fail. All images will prove distorted.
All the lines
Will leave the task forever incomplete.
I can't be made whole though I'm missing pieces of myself,
The shreds that I entrusted to you for safekeeping.
Now that you left there is no cure--no remedy
My soul won't heal its medicine is gone.
Its haven's broken down.
Its light is out. Forever will it drown
In darkness and in solitude sentenced to ever roam.
