A Poem for A Poem

Pitter patter, shattered heart

And give away what you won't feel

Pitter patter, broken wish

Please fall upon some other girl."

I wrote that sort of as an addition to the title of my newest poem. Now that I've mentioned it, I suppose I'll just type up the poem itself. This was one of those I wanted only him to read. Tell me, is this how it's supposed to be?

Pitter Patter, Shattered Heart
The wind is howling outside
I think it hears the turmoil
The closing gate each time a tear
Falls slowly, slowly down my face
The place for fighting back the fear
Has gone unnoticed, once again.

I think the sky knows what I feel
It could not cry out otherwise
Or know this blinding terror
Making shards and pixie dust
Playing with my shattered heart
As though there isn't one thing left
To care about or even feel.

My world is fractured, like a mirror
Jagged pieces which reflect
My pain, the cloud surrounding me
And just beyond my bedroom walls
The storm, the storm, it knows
That though I manage to forgive him
Every time that he's not here
Still it hurts to know, to realize.

I'm not the one he'll need or love
When every day is past and through
And not the face that he expects
I'll give the storm another piece
Another part that's breaking off
The wind will snatch it, swallowed whole
And give my aching soul
Another reason to forgive the rain
That falls upon my doorstep every day.

--
Something I add to my poems sometimes, when I don't rhyme the lines, is where each stanza, in order, has another line. In this poem, the first has six, and every one gains another, until you get to the last stanza, with nine lines. I've never thought anyone has ever noticed before. Shows to go, even when I have no pattern in my poems, I have to add in a pattern. *smiles* I've never been able to explain that before, either, and I didn't explain it very eloquently here either. Lol. Oh well. You get the point, relatively.

Anyway, I just noticed, for two months in succession, for the most part (which means: if I don't post another . . . uh, post, before the month is out), I will have exactly the same number of posts in each month. 33 for November, the same for December. Huh. Terribly ordered. I think I want some more variety, but I can't help how much I type sometimes. *grins*

"Open me up and you will see
I'm a gallery of broken hearts.
I'm beyond repair, let me be
And give me back my broken parts."
Be Ok - Ingrid Michaelson.

That song just came up on my playlist, so it's flashing through my mind at the moment. That song is terribly uplifting, if you listen to the beat, not necessarily the lyrics. *smiles* But it's a good song, and L. introduced me to it. God love her for it.

"Know that maybe I will be okay."

Good lyrics, sometimes, though.

Anyway. I feel as though I'm simply trying to fill up space with nothing. I'm tired, but I don't want to go to sleep. I think I want to go read another love story, and imagine everything coming out just right, for once. I'll be able to immerse myself in that (as C. frankly, and piggishly if I were to admit it, put it once) "faerie tale." Hmph. He calls himself a romantic, yet he's probably the most cynical, bitter (and please excuse me for this word, it's too late in the evening to still be accounted for what I say) bastard I've ever met. *shrugs*

Am I one of those saps who believes they'll be able to change that, be able to change him? *scoffs* Huh. Yeah, I guess, deep down, I am. I really sort of am. *sighs*