Quarters

Days go by
as if the heart is breaking
into quarters

A quarter to remember
what yesterday was
a quarter to worry
about forgetting
a quarter to
love him
a quarter
that no longer knows
just what was meant by
heart

She is the spoiled rich white kid
but she can still complain
she is who they would want to be
if she wasn't so miserable
if she didn't wear black
if she didn't grow her hair long and say
fuckit
to the world

if

They would want to be her
if she didn't go through moods
if she didn't cut herself
for no good reason
if she didn't hate so easily
if she didn't hate so often
if her heart wasn't breaking
goddamned heart wasn't breaking
every-other day

(she wishes that her skin
would burn those who touched her
she wishes that he
would recoil in pain
and spare both of them the heart-break
the breaking-heart of romance)

there are no real reasons

And
she knows it
she knows it all
the irony is lost on
no-one
the irony is not lost
on her

But
the feeling is there
the feeling
of quarters
splitting outward
holding memories
she should forget
(laughter
kissing him
what his skin tastes like)
spilling
what she needs to remember
(never again
and this is her own
goddamned fault)

Days go by
and the heart is breaking
time goes by
and the heart
is breaking
into quarters 		 
Quarters
7.15.03