He could have made the grade.
He would have been ideal.
I let my feelings get away.
I left my soul to feel.

For feeling, was a schism.
Each moment was a chance.
Each thoughtless intuition.
Was mindless happenstance.

I wrung my hands over the water.
I placed my heart in new compartments.
I watched the tears fall on the paper.
I gave him time for sentiment.

For losing, was a poison.
Each thorn a passing glance.
Each thought that was never spoken.
Was doomed to true romance.

He should have made it fade.
He could have been ideal.
I let my mind degrade.
I left my soul to feel.

I burned up bits of letters.
I threw up shards of glass.
I patched the wounds much better.
I let the feelings pass.

For time was just a vessel.
Each lapse, a quickened song.
Each tampering, each meddle.
Was too far, and too far gone.

He wonders why I am silent.
He paces in his mind.
My heart knows what my choice meant.
It has hardened over time.

My lover is the loft apartment.
I am the basement floor.
So high on awful discontent.
I can't do this anymore.

I crawled out of the darkness.
I splayed myself across the floor.
I closed my eyes to the abyss.
I will not live here any more.

-