This isn't living
This is you
Pointing a gun in my face
telling me that everything is ok,
You put the bullet in the gun
and
I pulled the trigger
That's the bullet
That
Took away my pain
Running from a blind a man
Lost in the known
I'm afraid to be found
If you can love me,
then you must not know me
I just wanted to dream,
so you poisoned me in my sleep

With his head in his hands
And his heart on his sleeve
He closes his eyes against the light of day
And against his quiet despair
He pretends it is not real

But part of him knows
Deep down amongst half-remembered dreams
Emotions that appear from nowhere
And linger
Every cell of him knows

He knows a loss without closure
A conversation without words
Dreams without endings
And hoping without hope

He hears a knock on the door
But no-one walks in
He puts his head in his hands
And his heart on his sleeve
He pretends it is not real

                                           By Phil Roberts