You do not see these wet cheeks
nor hear the weeping that comes
more often now as days pass by
You do not read the words
that pour from me like life’s blood
those written prayers and pleas
gushing torrents from the severed arteries
of my soul
And while I’ve thought of raining ruin
in desperation and despair, to have you feel
some small part of what this is
my heart still beats the cadence of your name
my veins still burn with love and passion
that does not abate or slow
and no ruin will come, love demands
at least that much of me
but nothing it seems, of you
So tears flow in rivers, and sobs will steal my breath
and words will cascade in waterfalls of feeling
like blood from open wounds
but what happens when the words stop
when that vital blood stops flowing
do I too succumb to the end of the world
and cease

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