The War in Making Peace

I am at war,
sick and desperate
from the perils within.

Head fighting heart,
earth against fire,
there is no way for me to win.

I can't call truce,
raise a white flag...
It's me against myself.

Battle broken and torn,
this soul can't lay to rest
memories upon your shelf.

All of me would walk away.
The most important things--
casualties I'd leave behind.

But, what good is a head
with no heart or soul?
Even if they are the traitorous kind.

I'm afraid there is
no way to compromise,
no piece this whole can choose...

I can't make peace
with this, our past,
while parts of me cling to you.