Time Out of Mind

My heart comes with a shut off switch that triggers involuntarily.

One second I'll love you, the next I'll let my mind wander and my heart wander farther.

I'm sorry, I don't mean it. I can't help it.

It's a manufacturing defect.

I have a beautiful exterior, capable of fulfilling all the qualities you desire in a companion.

But my heart, my center, experiences an involuntary shut down after an unpredictable amount of time.

Though before this happens you'll be loved sweeter than you've ever been. You'll hear all the words you've wanted to hear. The imprint on your mind will be everlasting.

You can try to oil the gears. You can try to upload your logic. You can bring all the reason and fury from your mind and heart in an attempt to make this anomaly go away.

But you can't.

I suppose there's always a chance I could overcome it. Perhaps with the help of so many doctors and chemicals.

But try as you might, love me as you might, despite being the best I'll likely ever find, you can't stop the weight of my brain triggering the switch in my heart.

I'm sorry. At least, I think I am -- everything's so hard to figure out.

Feelings are confusing, and your attempts at goading me into feeling are infuriating because I'd like them to work but they don't.

I'm sorry but don't know how to say it.
Scared, but don't know how to show it.

You walked away.
I didn't beg in person.
I save it for the shower, when I can swallow my pride and let God sort out the tears from the water.

You walked away.
I cried but not for long.
I save it for when I'm alone, and the light from the stars bleeds with my bleary vision.

You walked away.
I couldn't do anything to help you.
I still think long and hard, though, about how I can save you from the pain you're in.

I can't walk away.
Your footprints are getting hard to track.
Your image wavers on the horizon, and I'm just waiting for you to look back.