I’m waiting but I don’t know what for
am I waiting to let go
or for you to come back?
two heartbeats aren’t the same as two hearts beating

I’m bleeding but I don’t know why
did I do this to myself
or did you do this to me?
these crimson-speckled papers won’t dry

I’m still here but I don’t know what for
is this some form of therapy in
some twisted parallel universe
where roses talk and furniture philosophizes
where silence is a family name
where you smile because you can
not because you want to

I’m breathing but I don’t know what for
would it be acceptable to stop
to hold it in till the right words come?
this light is the wrong shade of night

I’m writing but I don’t know why
could it all be different if I dream it right
if I makebelieve another world?
maybe these pages are all that is true

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