A Work in Progress

our senses are supposed to be
for enjoyment such as touch
nose to smell, ears to hear, eyes to see
but sometimes too much

eyes see things and remember
eyeliner running down a cheek
they remember tears and eyes
bloodshot and watery

open to daylight's brightness
reveal glory and beautiful me
eyes close to remember more
haunting tales of a scary memory

blurred yellow of streetlights around
cars driving in a distance, but no sound
darkness apparent with the touch of a hand
knees shake and buckle, i can't stand

i see hair falling from your face
oh dear God, my legs aren't shaved
you hit me from behind, on the head
please, don't let me wind up dead"

you arm tightens its grip on my neck
please, stop hurting me on my back
but now you're gone, i hope i'm sure
please tell me about those four hours or more

there's memories between
i just do not want to see
my eyes failed me, happy for me
not mad or sad, as normally

(I need to put something else here
but it hurts to much.)

pry and pry as hard as you might
sometimes it reveals a tiny light.
i don't want you to try anymore
my heart is broken, already torn.