Broken hearts

Broken hearts come to me, gather at this table for two, that we have from drugs to alcohol. That I have from my poetry to the photos to burn. 

Come to me that I have damaged arms to lie to you about the future. Come that your tears don’t burn me and we put your heart in my freezer.

Approach anyone who wants a few years of mourning and that a cold tea is passed with a stream of rum. We'll be fine, I‘ll close the blinds and the windows that our eyes are sensitive and we have this fear of heights that won't go away for a few decades.

Come, that I have of what to talk with everyone who does not succeed without tripping over the same name. And have this tic that doesn’t know where it came from, although there is a story there. 

Stay awhile, a year, a month, a life, that there is no Judge here, there is no God to forgive us in our hatred.

Here there is a group of desperate people who have erased chats with the echo of their voices. 

It’s a sad club of people who have a heart that beats in lost hands.

T.A.