Too Much To Know

It’s time to quiet the poet’s dying heart again

time to kill her quietly weeping soul.

There’s no room for her in this time

no room for her in this place.

She wants to mourn, she wants someone to love

she wants to lie awake at night and dream.

But there is no one here but me to listen to her

and I have taken all that I can hear.

She only makes me sad and I can’t bear it

another day, another sleepless night.

Another day where tears won’t stop rolling down my face

I have to tell the poet’s soul goodbye.

She’s too much for me, too needy and fragile

she’s more than anyone has time to hear.

She sings her songs deep into the night

and weaves herself into the fabric’s thread.

I know she hurts, I know she cries

trust me, she is all that I can feel.

But I’ve given all of me that I can give her

and I see how everyone else feels the same.

She is lonely and broken and sad and she quietly sits alone

soon I will pass her by as well.

Like the many passing faces who can’t understand her need

who don’t even look at her anymore as they walk by.

I don’t want to be her but she was supposedly the best part

of me and I had to let her go.

She paints beautiful pictures of words on pages

but she lives them as well and that is too much to know.