alone

One day, when I would have found my words and you, your reasons, we'd meet. Wouldn't that be a beautiful sight? Me picking up my broken pieces and you examining them, as if choosing which one looks the prettiest with those bruises on, one at a time?

I'd ask you all the questions that keep on playing
merry-go-round in my head. I'd wet your shirt with the river of tears that flows from the mountain of my pain and gets lost in the dead desert of your love. I'd scream and sob and do everything that I do in my worst nightmares. I'd show you the inner hell and make sure you meet all the monsters who feed on the memories you've left behind. I'd do so much and yet I'm afraid that wouldn't be enough. Just as my love was, for you, 'never enough'.

You? What'd you do? Maybe you won't have the answers, as always. Maybe your shirt would be already wet from somebody else's river. Maybe you'd be deaf to my screams and inconsiderate to my tears. Maybe you'd be blind to my inner hell. Maybe, you'd throw away my broken pieces and break them further, to the extent that it would hurt to pick them up, again.

Or

Maybe you'd give me the answers I deserve. Maybe you'd take out that handkerchief from your shirt and wipe my tears. Maybe you'd hear my screams and embrace me so hard that I'd gasp for breath. Maybe you'd turn my hell into heaven. Maybe, you'd hold my broken pieces together until I'm whole, again.

I don't know which 'maybe' would turn into a 'surely'. The rule of heart breaks says the former but when did the heart start following rules?
Oh, my young and stupid heart!
Well, we'd see what happens.

Until then, I'll wait for the day when I would have found my words and you, your reasons because that'd be the day we'd meet, maybe one last time.
MAYBE.