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Cotton, pillow, and heart
Imagine for a moment that, regardless of age,
You are brimful of love, but there is nowhere to
Expend it. You are overflowing with passion like a
Bursting purse, chock-a-block with revenue, yet the
Clasp is tightly sealed against entry, and cannot
Be prised open not even by the mighty purchase
Of Heaven's fulcrum.
Unspendable love, unspendable money. Imagine
Again, the silence that comes with such a sorry
State of affairs. What yesterday was dependable
And forever is today nothing of the sort. Loss of
One kind or another leading inexorably to five
Star loneliness and all that spiritual bankruptcy
Implies. Such an hour, such a day, such a night,
Steeped in the haunting memories of a love that
Once was, and will forever linger in the tender
Threads of cotton, pillow, and heart.
When a heart becomes vacant squatter ghosts
Quickly assemble ,gleefully adding weight to a
Pain that is already unbearable. Memories come
Flooding in as thoughts drift ever backwards in
Search of better times, in a better place, with a
Better love. A love now so unattainable as to be
Nought but an illusion in the cortex of a sensible
Mind. But this mind is not sensible, or at least not
Willing to be so. For there is peace and safety in
The cocoon of 'what might have been' where
Phantoms of the mind weave and embellish,
Buff up and massage images from the past in
A valiant effort to bring a modicum of relief to
An injured heart.
As the empty hours tick by the blood of a broken
Heart falls as tears. Tears to cool the pillow, tears
To tell the angels something is amiss. Tears often
Hidden from view, but visible still to eyes that can
See. Was it a cheat, a jilt or just a change of heart?
Whatever it was, it stung like mad, hurt like billy-o
And left the injured heart in disarray.
But as we all know, time heals and in time this
Heart grew in strength and stature, and one
Night, moonlight peeped through a pretty window
To fall upon crisp cotton sheets, a pillow on
Which lay a single rose and a heart making up
For lost time.
© Joseph G Dawson