I accept
the persistance of protest
falling slaughter to
the process
of grief
conducted by
an orchestra of misery
in thought and heartbeat
of loving
incomplete
but fully, so.

I understand
the damnation
of falling in love
with the idea at hand
but failing at the contraption
to combine
illusion, shrine and destiny
then forcibly
settling
for what is supposed to be

I grieve
thoroughly
for attaching heart strings
with knots
instead of ties
watch
feel
how i blossom then bloom
only to be plucked
then left to rot
in whatever hauling hell of hope
I found dissociation in

I bleed
I die

then this cynical mastermind
or substance-laced space and time
throws me back
into the realm
of vain disdain
for lovers truer
than figurines
and selfish dreams
designed
from man made despair

i settle in
reborn free
from the missing piece
that had
hollowed me
for having loved
badly
wrongly
destructively

and
finally
I reconcile
my own
to construct
a pace

to evolve
to move on
I walk with grace

knowing
I had loved, at all.

KH