Abigail Spencer Abigail Spencer SEE MORE >
broken heart.
abigail spencer

My heart. 
My heart is a bit broken. 
My heart is broken. 
I feel this longing deep inside my soul. This earthquake to the inner most parts of my bone. This crack in the marrow of my inner most blood flow. 
There is a block to my heart. My heart cannot compete with the sadness that comes with your ever present absence. No amount of pain could fill the void of despair in your nowhere to be found; nor here, nor there. 
Nowhere to be seen. Nowhere to be preened. I can’t forget, I won’t forget the gentle voice of tender words of which you slurred and cured the verbs, and when weren’t feathered, made clean. 
Too many things to be done and undone. Too many roads to be run and un-run. I’ve escaped the heart and fled to the mind to make haste and make hindrance so my love’s not left behind. I don’t know how to be seen with out the sound against the sheen of your call. Your thoughts. I don’t know why there aren’t more thoughts, to quickly float and fly and fall. The distraction is too great, the temptation is too steep. I can’t bare the thought that another and another year will pass with out you in my keep. 
Come back to me. I will not lie. 
I miss you deep. 
I miss you wide. 
I miss you whole. 
I miss you lot. 
I miss, I miss, I miss, yet not. 
I can’t let salty tears distract me from which mine eyes must do. I can’t let runny noses react to the things that are left to do. I need your grace, your strength your presence, to make it through the night. I can’t believe you were taken, when it was just getting to what seemed right to do.
No practice run to tell me so of how to live in mourning. No facts or figures calculate, the depth of which I’m soaring. I fill and fill. And fill a lot. The filler is much fuller not. I empty, empty, and empty air until you’re but a glimmer.
A wave left in your chair. 
I don't’ want to forget your smell of sand and surf and wax and sweat. I don’t want to forget the way you stand, bow legged with a lilt and to the left... or how you had just learned to text. 
I don’t want to forget, the forget me nots that pile upon my care. I don’t want to forget, forget me not, as you hover closer with the kindest stare. 
I call to call. I call to be. This strange un-parting passage. 
I’ll call and keep calling and call some more, in ever hunting, ravaged. 
don't leave me now. don't leave me so. i could not bare to bare.
don't leave my heart. my broken heart. that now is in your care.
broken heart.
abigail spencer

My heart.
My heart is a bit broken.
My heart is broken.
I feel this longing deep inside my soul. This earthquake to the inner most parts of my bone. This crack in the marrow of my inner most blood flow.
There is a block to my heart. My heart cannot compete with the sadness that comes with your ever present absence. No amount of pain could fill the void of despair in your nowhere to be found; nor here, nor there.
Nowhere to be seen. Nowhere to be preened. I can’t forget, I won’t forget the gentle voice of tender words of which you slurred and cured the verbs, and when weren’t feathered, made clean.
Too many things to be done and undone. Too many roads to be run and un-run. I’ve escaped the heart and fled to the mind to make haste and make hindrance so my love’s not left behind. I don’t know how to be seen with out the sound against the sheen of your call. Your thoughts. I don’t know why there aren’t more thoughts, to quickly float and fly and fall. The distraction is too great, the temptation is too steep. I can’t bare the thought that another and another year will pass with out you in my keep.
Come back to me. I will not lie.
I miss you deep.
I miss you wide.
I miss you whole.
I miss you lot.
I miss, I miss, I miss, yet not.
I can’t let salty tears distract me from which mine eyes must do. I can’t let runny noses react to the things that are left to do. I need your grace, your strength your presence, to make it through the night. I can’t believe you were taken, when it was just getting to what seemed right to do.
No practice run to tell me so of how to live in mourning. No facts or figures calculate, the depth of which I’m soaring. I fill and fill. And fill a lot. The filler is much fuller not. I empty, empty, and empty air until you’re but a glimmer.
A wave left in your chair.
I don't’ want to forget your smell of sand and surf and wax and sweat. I don’t want to forget the way you stand, bow legged with a lilt and to the left... or how you had just learned to text.
I don’t want to forget, the forget me nots that pile upon my care. I don’t want to forget, forget me not, as you hover closer with the kindest stare.
I call to call. I call to be. This strange un-parting passage.
I’ll call and keep calling and call some more, in ever hunting, ravaged.
don't leave me now. don't leave me so. i could not bare to bare.
don't leave my heart. my broken heart. that now is in your care.
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Aden Young teaching me French. It's a beautiful thing. #bts #Rectify #press …