All I Have Left

This particular poem is dedicated to/ about a friend of mine. I've been writing a lot of poems lately about the people in my life, I suppose writing says all the things I have never been able to. It is something that I find interesting; I could write about how I feel all day with articulate verbosity and be content, for the most part, with never sharing it with a soul. These poems are like my diary in a way, I share the deepest part of my heart in them and through them, rarely intending for anybody to share them, anybody to understand that hidden part of myself. So here I offer you a peek into my diary as it were. Heartbreak is a universal trait, a feeling as human as our heartbeat. While the experience will vary, the pain reverberates in everything we are. This poem is about my experience. This friend knows of the existence of this poem, but said that he isn't ready for it. However, this poem is one of my best works and I want to share it/ my heart with you. If he reads this, and I truly hope that one day he does, well...I don't know. Step by little step he is coming back into my life and it thrills me in ways I wasn't ready to face. I missed my best friend. So I hope as you read this, that it encourages you or maybe that you can hear the broken beat of your own heart in it. So, if nothing else, please know you are not alone. This is an original work titled: All I Have Left


All I Have Left

I watched it.
From the start, I watched you trickle away
Piece by piece, dissipating from my life like water
Disappearing as you hit the dust
Where the sound of your absence echoed
The last drop pounding the last piece of my heart
You had dared to touch
The sound was deafening
It was painful and I could not bear it
I tried to let that last piece die
But a heart is not one to be severed
It pulsed and pounded, reminding me it remained
So I sought out the only way I knew
To quench the parched ground that had started to crack
But my hands grasped little but sand
Groping for a thing that no longer was there
Staring at my empty hands, my lip quivered
And I mourned the empty, listless nothing
That was now my possession
All I have now are pictures
Primarily in my mind as your face shines
My mind recalling you were my light in dark places
So I was Jean D'Arc crying on my sword
Realizing the sharpest pain was not your absence
But rather that you were no longer willing to fight for me
Though for the longest time I could not see it
Justice and Cupid are blind
Maybe the girl would've rather fallen on her sword
Than to see the beautiful everythings burn in the fire
Did she hear the voice of God?
Did I?