Heart’s a Mess

It is funny how I tear up when I see water,

And all that I need to stay in one piece,

Reminds me of distress

Should I see a doctor?

Maybe that’s what I need, a diagnosis.

For my Heart’s a Mess.

I’m turning into my enemy, a poacher of my dreams.

My eyebrows are forever creased up

I feel agony nourishing my face

Should I have my palm read?

Maybe then I’ll find a cure,

For my Heart’s a Mess.

I feel scared, as though I’m not allowed to think this through

As I see not love, but distance between us,

I feel jittery thinking you might not be there on the other end

To pick up the other part of the telephone we built out of tin cups

I feel alone, put to task for no reason,

Without any assurance from you or anybody else,

For my Heart’s a Mess.

And if you feel like saying nothing,

Please feel free to walk away.

But then, do cut the tether.

Should I ask myself another question?

Or maybe just give me some time to heal in its stead

For yes, Heart’s a Mess.

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