Someone broke your heart
And you’ve been salvaging your ego
at my expense
It hurts
But it’s ok
That’s what I meant when
I told you I love you
And it’s possible
To take very little personally
When you write poetry
But just remember
Little by little
I won’t be real anymore
The is no infinite account
As you draw from the reservoir
Of my heart
and all that will be left
Will be dead spirits
In paper sarcophagus
An electric tomb
Of emotion long noted
Then eroded
a floundering fire
Casting ash
Upon a forgotten philosophy
The one where love was everything
And friendship could save us all