I miss you never rolled off my tongue,
But you have become my every poem.
Of everything gone,
You somehow still sleep inside of me,
I close my eyes and still call you my home,
Even if it is lost.
I still have dreams of you holding my hand
against your chest,
Your heart beating against me,
Even in my forgetfulness,
You continue to stay.
I try to call you a mistake.
That's what everyone says.
Head over heart.
But yours is the only face I see,
When the world's walls come
crashing in on me.
No hands reaching in.
This is not a heartbreak.
Yet, you are the kind of sadness
that never really goes away.
No, this is not a heartbreak.
But something in my heart forever remains empty.
But you have become my every poem.
Of everything gone,
You somehow still sleep inside of me,
I close my eyes and still call you my home,
Even if it is lost.
I still have dreams of you holding my hand
against your chest,
Your heart beating against me,
Even in my forgetfulness,
You continue to stay.
I try to call you a mistake.
That's what everyone says.
Head over heart.
But yours is the only face I see,
When the world's walls come
crashing in on me.
No hands reaching in.
This is not a heartbreak.
Yet, you are the kind of sadness
that never really goes away.
No, this is not a heartbreak.
But something in my heart forever remains empty.
