I want to talk about...

Some nights, my heart is too much to bear, listen:
I want to talk about the loneliness
that wakes at two am and looks to the sky,
hoping that someone out there is listening.
I want to talk about the blackness
that surrounds my heart, where it once bled red.
The rain that's formed an ocean inside my soul;
where my heart now drifts alone without an anchor,
waiting to be saved by an ambiguous signal.
I want to talk about the innocence lost in little children
and the tongues that were stolen by guilty strangers.
The lines that poetry wrote, back when love existed
and how the little heart breaks when bullies slay.
I want to talk about the one that walked away
and the part of me that still waits for him.
I want to talk about how the heart
hides behind the flesh of every soul,
how it hides in time, and in the eyes of angels.
I want to talk about the gun that death wore
the night he flew to the moon
and the part of me that now sparkles in the stars.
I want to talk to you about all of these things,
but maybe I'll just write about it.