It has been over a year now
Since I last saw her
She has moved on
And yet
She still visits my dreams
Sometimes as a friend
Sometimes as a lover
We rarely speak
(in fact never, unless
you count msn which I don't)
I no longer know what she is to me
Maybe just a symbol of brokenness
Reducing me to tears
And to angsty poetry
(which on the surface I know is rubbish;
almost a parody in its own way.
But deep down I still hope
that this crap with too many
line breaks will get chinged)

For a time, I thought myself incapable,
Unable to love again
But I crushed and hoped to bed
Other girls. (and by
Bed, I mean use as a pillar
To cry against; and to talk to
As I talk to my cat -
You are the only one who cares
I tell him - as I would tell
Her if she were there
And if she actually cared)
But the crux is that finding
girls is not easy. My only certainty
is that a random girl
will find me unattractive on
the outside. And on the inside
all the good is balanced out
by the fact that I am broken.

I have tried to heal myself
And yet my dreams and constant thoughts
Are but part of the proof that I have failed
I am now worried that I am looking
for a girl who will heal me.
But when she leaves -
For this hypothetical healer
Is obviously imbalanced and will
No longer want me when I am whole -
What will be left of me?
And more importantly
What will be left of her?
And what if The One
Comes along? She is not a
Healer. She is whole and
Repairs her own cracks
(Yes, Halspal, I know - that lets the light in)
Will she kick my bum into line
And stay the distance.
Or will she give me up as a bad job?

Either way - hopefully we will find
Something better to do at 23:30
Than write meaningless (but deep-down brilliant)
Poetry because the Broken
One of us is afraid to go to sleep
For fear that his dreams
Will again feature proof
Of his brokenness.