Sunday, December 18, 2011

At the Touch of Love, Everyone Becomes a Poet

If you want to be sure of keeping your heart intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even an animal.  Lock it up safely in the casket of your selfishness. And in the casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will not change, it will not be broken. It will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The only place outside of heaven where you can be perfectly safe from the dangers of love is in hell.
— C.S. Lewis

I come home to wrap my wounds and hide my lacerations.  You abuse my kindness and corrupt my affection, my generosity.  But it's my fault, not yours.  And days like these I want to erase every tender word I've ever written about you.  I want to withdraw every warm feeling I've felt and every inch I've shared with you.  When did you become the poison on the fruit of my trees?  I want to hurt you like you've hurt me, time and time again.

When I catch a glimpse into your eyes, it feels so familiar to me,
But our minds are like strangers, ships passing in the sea.
Goddamn maybe a broken heart isn’t worth mending,
Maybe this beginning is really our ending.

You knew to always keep your distance, and no you're not to blame,
but me, I'm stupid, I knew I should have done the same.  

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