Broken

It boils from below,

Like a simmering pot,

It burns, and it stings,

Inconsistently hot,

Warm and then scorching,

But always too much

To take when our lives

Will never not touch,

A friend turned to whispers,

Disappeared like a song,

A word that is said

But is instantly gone,

That is who I am,

To him, I'm a dream,

One he forgot

While still sound asleep,

It's not that his heart

Simply healed and let go,

But sadly, I think,

His heart never broke,

It never held mine,

I just held his alone,

And that is a pain

I will never not know.