When I listen back
to those songs,
those words and melodies I wrote,
like today,
they take me back
to the moments
that the fire
was running in my blood
for you.

How you lit me up,
you led and turned me on.
You made me believe
that you were for me,
that we were one.
My heart is beating
as hard as then,
now.

I haven’t felt this way ever again.
But now,
as I hear my voice,
my heart, my being,
alive in those songs,
I do.

My songs have an anchor,
a permanent immovable hook,
pierced to my heart on one end
and to those timeless moments on another.

I was at my best,
in every sense,
then you pulled the rug
under my feet
in a whim,
and since then
I’m still falling
in a bottomless pit.
I’ve never quite seen the light again.

I just function
but I am not me,
just an invisible figure.

And it’s not just because of you,
the world in general,
people.
I’m very disappointed
and heartbroken.

But if I feel alive now
as I did then,
it means that maybe
I still haven’t died.

There’s hope.