have you ever thought to notice
how songs never sound the same, and
while the metronomes and whispers hold their own,
the first time will always be the best, or
have i got it wrong?

sitting in my self-contained container,
you brush beside my troubled thoughts
and once more it is over.

a million thousand glances and
a thousand million tears
but, as they say,
the first cut is the deepest, and
you would be happy to hear
this poem is not about you.

more so, it is about the way
a bee looks from outside the jar, and
the way your fingers are too busy
painting stardust music notes
to wrap around my own.

no, you see, what im trying to say is,
everything i do
is more fun when i have you
to do it with me, and
i wish i could learn every
thought you’ve ever had.

now shed a single tear and pour me another cup, for
now we come across a true conundrum.
the word ‘you’ was never plural.
so read again and it will be clear
there lies the real heartbreak.