And so we walked out into the open, with one heart bleeding and one heart black. Our intentions were like the clouds: fleeting, restless, and silver lined.
You looked into my eyes with pleading and pity and I stood by while they walked you off into the night.
I lay awake at night with a bottle of wine in one hand and torn bits of paper in the other. They are the words I wish I whispered to you. Your wrists bear scars left by my mistakes.
I turn back through pages filled with poems and find the one line that changed the rhythm. I’m scratching furiously at ink that won’t come out.
Everything is different, but it ends the same. We’re at opposite ends, by opposite oceans, staring up at the same stars.
And those clouds restless and silver lined tell tales of one heart open and one heart black, out in the open and out of time.