Darling, I can't stand the state my heart is in every time she speaks your limbs trot away and I feel so alone in my poetry, words barely comfort me So take them, dear I don't want the language of my pen to speak anymore, I'd rather make love to you Heartsickness is overly dreary and my chest won't stop sighing over the sound of our immeasurable distance quietly you left, unbearably loud you're gone I'm left here with my shock all awkwardly dangling from a heart shaped mirror, it stares at me with a smirky grin of everlasting imagery laughing hysterically at my idiocy, taunting dreams with reflections of you from it seems another lifetime ago, when love was kind and huggable and decent and liked to smile, even if just for a little while (but it's not like that anymore, is it?)