And He Mourns Only for Himself

My soul is liquid
I give and I give, but most of all I take
Each time someone holds me in their hands
(It happens time and time again; what am I but an enigma?)
I feel a little of their filth seep into me
Each time I am loved, I fall farther from salvation

My soul is liquid
They say they need me (don’t you remember swearing it?)
But they cast me off thoughtlessly
Their forgotten promises (and me) becoming dirt beneath their feet
But now I can slip through people’s fingers before they know I’m there
And I could swear there used to be more of me

My soul is liquid
(Did it happen all at once or piece by piece –
Islands sinking into a sea of despair?)
When I burn, I lose myself and no one can have me
And when I freeze (it happens when I hear his name)
I lose myself, hard and angry, trying not to remember

Yes, my soul is liquid
But when I was young (was I ever so young?)
I was whole, I was solid, and I swear I knew how to love
A thousand moments, a thousand tears
Did I drown myself, or am I trying to drown everyone around me?

2 thoughts on “And He Mourns Only for Himself

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