PLEASE STOP

Please stop
can't you see
how I'm twisted and torn,
insides turned to indifference's bricks
that once were passion's clay?

Perhaps I shall find
a different hand
having more precious pressures
to shape my hardening soul
into something pliable again.

But then that would mean
my heart should first bleed
into my well of love
drained long ago
by ignoring all the things
I cared about, but fear to risk
in order to claim.

Which demands dredging
the soil of feeling
till I found a spring with moisture to soften
what I myself let become so dry.

Tears alone have never be enough
for making my compassion's adobe
something to shelter other's needs
instead of erecting a morgue.