Hello my wine stained dove.
See all these jewel like pills cascading?
Surely it will make everything well again.
Multicolored capsules of joy,
followed with a bittersweet aftertaste of death.
Hey you in the darkness,
sing me a song,
so I know you’re still alive.
It was only when I tried myself, did I realize I’d forgotten how to sing,
much like how I’d forgotten how to love.
Sing me a song,
for it’s true, if you love them, you’ll let them fly.
How can you cage the one you say you love, and expect them to sing?
So I’ll sing,
“Good morning heartache, it’s a little after noon,
Good morning heartache, why’d you have to go so soon?
Good morning love giver, how I’ll miss you in the night.
Good night my sweet lover, good night.”
Motivations for writing
In my late teens and early twenties I was nearly obsessively in love with my best friend and I had never known love as strong as that. He was in love with another man and I soon realized I could never share that sort of love with him. The only way to express my despair and pain was through poetry. This is one of many I wrote to express my bleeding heart.