If love was meant...

if love was meant to be
sweet, and full of softness
seeping, then all those
sleeping sweetly underneath
the ground are lovers,
and all of us above
the ground are merely
fools that try too hard
beneath the breathing covers.

if hearts were meant to be
pried open like an oyster
shell, and all the secret
secrets therein dwelling
made to spill,
then lucky are they whose hearts
have stopped beating and no
longer have desires, dark
and rich, with which to kill.

if eyes were meant to be
seen into, peered
and pierced by other
eyes seeking,
those whose eyes are closed
eternal need have no fear
that others see so
when their soul is leeking.

if life was meant to be
shared, joy and sorrow
entertwined, stitched with
fiercely intimate care,
then envious am i of those
who no longer have that
spark, no vibrancy to violently
be much too much to bear.

if our love was meant to be
real, all our words worth
writing, and all our
silences worth gold,
then why does this feel like
waiting in a dream for a dream
to appear, while my heart
gathers dust and grows old?

if our lives were meant to be
spent together- the pain,
the deceit, the tears,
blood, and the song-
let us take hold of hands
now, shoot ourselves in the head,
and aim for the clouds,
and put hope in the hope
we aren't wrong.