in matters of the heart

where does love live?
does it live alone?
silently

contentedly

assured of its value
in some dusty corner

of our hearts
what does love fear?

truth?

rejection?

why does it leave us?

when we need it the most?

we dream of it

we hope for it

we pray for it

but in my truth

within my story

we have always lived apart

and in matters of the heart

I remain poor

fading fast

my time was yesterday
yours is today and tomorrow
I belong with the graveside mourners
you belong with the dreamers and shakers
I am no longer my father's hope
or my mother's fear
for I am parentless
the last of my line
a man seeking an honourable end
but what I give to you
what I press willingly into you hands
are the remaining embers of my life
and the last ounce of my love

still sorry

sometimes I don't think
sometimes I don't see
sometimes I punch through hearts
only to remember
that some souls are paper thin
and that words
my sharp words
can cause tears
and pile upon those delicate shoulders
an unbearable weight
sometimes I don't think
sometimes I don't see
is it any wonder that it is only regret
that embraces me?