Sunday evenings is when my sadness colludes with my hollowed out heart
I fold laundry, I clean counters in hopes I don't start to fall apart
For everything's sake, I have it all
but at 6 pm each evening I become so weary and I'm ready to crawl
Crawl back into your arms from which you chased me
Crawl back to the man who doesn't reside in the place I keep for him
I've tried to level all sorts of reasoning and logic against you
but honestly
It is your name that my voice calls in the dark of the night when I tremble
I tell the universe to please whisper in your ear and remind you of how much I loved you
Maybe something will stir
Until then I'm as stagnant as the rainwater that's left in a puddle in my yard
I visited that place again, no not the one I visit each day in my mind but the physical place where you first held me
I remember that night by the beach house, where you held me
where you smelled me and whispered some nothingness to me
We transcended euphoria and it's that night etched into me that has hollowed out a special space
What if when I knew I loved someone whose love had an expiration date
What did I do to myself when I allowed you to come into my most inner parts of my thoughts
I thought I had become inured to these illicit encounters and you flipped me on my head
If I had known the due date of our time would have ripped me apart, and I went along anyway, should I call myself a masochist? Maybe a martyr for love
In any case.. all I have left is longing
But longing does not the heart fill as much as it fills the mind
