Empty Palms and a Sacred Heart

I once wished we were diamond blue.

hurrying to the gates of hope,

wishing for us to turn to violent delights

rather than foolishly fall to our demise.

I once held our hellish moments in my palms

where palms once meant a thing of praying

and our moments were small enough to fit in them.

but now all they are is a pair of flesh and bone, holding

imaginary scenarios that were never shared between us.

I never thought I’d hold my breath when uttering three simple words

that I knew deep inside would never be returned.

and isn’t that the most hurtful thing?

unrequited love. the kind you can never change or take back

or wish for something better because it can’t.

and you pray

and you pointlessly wish for empty palms and a sacred heart.

but you know it’s all in vain because he’s gone and the feeling along with him.

and the next thing you know is you’re flying on an airplane to the other side of the world

hoping that the distance will create a hole between you and him

and your unrequited love that can never be deleted or postponed.

and he apologizes and you cry and there’s nothing left in your eye

but a glimpse of hope that maybe it is something worth praying for.

worth wishing for, worth waiting for.

Except. You’re waiting for the wrong one. And no matter how hard it is letting go,

it feels easier when you know that you’re only making space for

the right one that will one day bring love bigger than your pray-less palms and your sacred heart.