These hearts are two of a kind.
Where his bleeds, hers clots.
The solemn is found in varied ways
One fades to stain decay,
While other dyes in hard blots.

You see.
Suffering speaks its own urgent
Language. Parsed understanding
Ripens life's harvest in ways
the tongue of innocence fears
to eloquate.

I can't say that mine stopped,
But hers' in overdrive,
It can't pass the hard-knocks.
Its working overtime for the
Past tensions, far gone,
While mine locks to latch on.

Its a mediocre soliloquy.
Beating breath from lungs that
Retch an insurrected piece
To offer peace rejected infamy.
I think she thinks, i think
"I think she has it in for me"

I just want our two hearts to part
From the fight.
Whether mine obliges to your treats
Or your treaties depends on how
You treat me. And she's thinking
"I'm thinking he's thinking the same"

The blame remains.
These hearts had crossed wires
Made aims, and shots fired
Plays games, where hers heardened
Bounced bullets and stayed stiff
While his loosened, and emptied
When the clips from strays ripped.

Now they're in no mans land.
Singing the same song,
To asynchronous beat.



© Haiych

#love
#pain
#resolution