Heartbreak-in-the-Making

Midnight came quietly
As if it knew I needed Silence
To make me listen to my thoughts

(As if one could help not hearing
Rolling thunder despite the howling
Storm—unless one is hopelessly deaf

Which I am not)

Oh well, my thoughts:

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How wonderful that “you”
And “me”
Became “us”

Again
After a painful setback
“Back then”

Back when, really?
Not so way-back-then
Actually

Meaning?
The scars are fresh. Pink.
Like mouths itching to tell tales.

How easily we are reminded
Of the things we make ourselves
Believe we have forgotten

Sometimes

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Relentlessly. Ruthlessly.

How the past never seems
To let me go and let me be
When by all means it should

Because “you” and “me”
Became “us” once more
A window shut opened as a door

Now it seems like this door
Has but two sides to it and nothing more:
What Took Place Before

And What Will, In The Future?

Stuck in the Now
Whichever way I look
I see this one thing:

Myself Where You Are Concerned

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Have I every reason to hurt like this?
Have I every reason not to
When I can’t seem to have you

When I so need you the most?
And when is that, pray tell?
Is it when I don’t feel you near me?

Is it when this heart I’m holding you with
Yearns to know you are carrying it too?
Or is it when I have to make do with Doubt

Because I can no longer deny it is there?

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How do I get to weigh things right
When I myself am floating, drifting
In an ocean of raging but repressed

ISCUFONO

Otherwise known as

EOLV?

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Amazing how Hurt could come in different
Ways: as sleeplessness induced by smoking
Iced Coffee; as a friend’s wounded heart wishing

It isn’t bleeding alone; or as Midnight
Falling ever so quietly upon the world
As if it knew I needed to be heard this time

Because this time, I hurt.

I hurt everywhere.

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Amazing how Hurt could point at different
Directions—at the same time: the Past we so
Labor to hide beneath the fragile shroud of

Our Minds; Today, which we so preoccupy
Ourselves to define and capture as our own;
And Tomorrow, which we can only hope would

Turn out for the best.

No matter how livid the scars of the heart may be.
No matter how imperious Doubt may seem.
No matter how charred the stakes could get.

No matter how “Amen” could sound like hoping against Hope…

Amen… No matter.

*I had to write this for my friend Ana, who’s going through a hell lot now, when I couldn’t make myself say “I know how you feel,” because even that is as dark and hollow as the growing tunnel of my Unknowing. The blind may not do well in leading another of his kind. But he sure can keep the other from being alone, by being there.