A Bleeding Heart.

My first completed poem that I just recently found; I was about 13 years old.

The sun rises in what seems to be slow motion.

I sit here, in the twilight, thinking of my only devotion.

The longing, the pain... All because of you. 

I wish you were here to tell me what to do.

I try not to cry, but my laughs are false.

I try not to, but I always end up thinking of my loss.

Those people tell me it's time to move on.

I don't see how I can move while you are still gone.

I've outlived them all; my friends have all passed.

Those people try to help me, but the friendships never last.

It's not good, the way I'm living; guzzling poison down my throat,

going over and over every poem that I wrote.

Your penniless poet is now heartbroken, and unbelievably lost,

with the memories of you and the grief that you've caused.

I don't blame you, it just sounds like I do.

I just wish that you were with me.

I just wanted to protect you.

This is now my pitiful story, the ending of the end and tonight I will see you, 

there's no more pretend.

I will let my heart bleed.

I will sit there and wait, til the sound of your voice and the opening of the gates.

I can not live anymore with this despair in my heart.

For this time, my love, we will never again be apart.