HARDAWAY FIGHTER

You are not here, but you are, if that makes sense.
Like the moon after the day wakes, or the pain that's trapped inside the scar on my knee.
I wish you were a scar.
Or something other than glass shards beneath skin.

I'm tired of seeing your reflection beyond the blood.
Because you didn't love me.
Because nights with me were just nights.......
nights that faded into morning and back into nights,
and morning again.

Because my hands were only dry, calloused flesh.
Because my eyes were simply....two brown circles drenched in rain.
Because my heart was no more than an ORGAN to you.