The Things That Bug You In The Early Hours

I do not want to forget:
The way I felt when I opened up my heart;
The way it wretched and flipped and bled every word,
And how it sat beating faster than I could keep up with
In anticipation of reply.
And how it began to slow down when that reply took too long,
And how it eventually stopped when the reply never came.
I do not want to forget:
The scratchy-patchy feeling of it's self mending;
The cliche of the empty space leftover,
And how it ate at the rest of my heart
Feeding it's appetite for a voided love.

I do not want to forget these emotions that may seem silly of foolish or petty.
Because at one point I felt them,
And they were real.
I know that next time I won't have to worry about them,
Because time and time again I will open my heart,
and I will wait for a reply.

(Untitled)

With steel traps unopened and winded words spoken,
These battles I've taken a few.
I'm tired of forgiving while vacantly watching,
So I'll sit here waiting for you.
I'm sitting here waiting for you.