Billie Blues

I play Billie when I miss you.
So, in truth, her voice rings through my room and into the hours that never seem to end.
Maybe it's because they don't.
I blow on the record, but only because I saw them do it in a movie once.
I put the needle on, sometimes I move it too far and it scratches.
But sometimes I get it right and Billie serenades me and the way I still love you.
You see, I thought that it would take me half the amount of time that we were together to get over you.
But it's been years inside my heart.
And here I am; loving you just as much as I did on the day you left.
The record spins, even when it's finished playing tunes of what could only be considered broken hearts.
And for some reason, I am so broken.
I am so broken.
Not just because of you, although that is a lot of it.
But because the world seems to spin despite me begging it to stop.
To retrace my footprints in the sand to the moment where I let you walk away even though I knew you didn't want to.
I'm as much to blame as you.
And it seems that I spend far too much time heartbroken.
And I seek too much attention.
I put out a sign that says, "love me" and am met with silence.
I just want to feel the way you made me feel again somehow.
I want to feel the nights I lay next to you, tracing the patterns on your skin and the outline of your eyes.  To lean over and kiss your shoulder while you slept.  To wake up to your face in the crook of my neck and your arm draped over my chest.  You loved it when I was close.
But now, you are everything and far away.
And I can't have you.
I can't have you.
There is no hope in letting go, because I can't do it.
I can't let you leave my being when you are entirely made up of it.
You are the best pieces of me.
And no matter who you're with or who I cry to; that won't change.
Because I don't love my life as much as I love you.
And I need to.  

Heartbreak FM

Maybe today, I'll write a poem. 

Because it's two hours passed too late and I'm too tired to write anymore love songs.

You'd never hear them anyways. 

You see, I thought that maybe I could stop feeling sorry for myself and stop trying to make people like me.  I thought that maybe instead of begging for you in my dreams, I could wake up and find someone else in reality.  I guess that explains why I don't want to wake up most days.  

And if the world was made solely for the purpose of finding 'the one', then I wonder why love is tossed around like ammunition.  It blows the heart to bits more than once, that's for damn sure.

And if love is your favorite song, doesn't it grow old after awhile?  To sit on the porch and decay like the wood?  To kiss your cheek and pray that tonight isn't the night where the last breath of forever becomes your body?

I guess I want to know how you found her so quickly.  Because despite all the evidence, my heart isn't convinced that you were the perpetrator.  Can you really love so quickly after the way I loved you?  

It shouldn't matter anymore.  Because despite you being my favorite song, I was still flipping stations, wondering if maybe I'd gotten it wrong.  Even though now, you're the only song I want to hear for the rest of reality and into my dreams.  

So I'll lie to the police for awhile longer.  After all, is denying that you're gone such a crime?