its time

I can be alone,
for as long as fruits still smell

I can be faded in the black and white of your wedding photograph
and still smell like a fruit.

I can still bare the pain of a paper cut
and my silence would not bother you
still

My heart’s beating again
and something in the deepest of your eyes says;
its time to go
time to go

Sometimes I wish I was deaf
and couldn’t hear the crash of my soul
under your shrugging shoulders;
not so much important,
or
I can live with it.

But how unbearably loud your aloofness was.

you just didn’t know.