with time
the heart disappears
fading into the chest
until I could reach in
and no longer find it
its beating grows labored
and weak
from searching
and no longer being
what others might seek
my heart
now an ember
once caught fire
and pumped wildly
beneath my breasts
its a lie
that hearts beat on their own
encouragement
tenderness
keep the blood moving
but the thought of an occasional
puncture wound in the neck
no longer prods me on
maybe that is why
so many hearts die
near dawn
waiting alone
tears and years in the dark
knowing there is no mark
nor takers
to hold it...
and so the fire
once within
goes cold
from lack.
(the heart without a tale....)
LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS POEM 5:33am PST 5/13/2022 time and date stamped
and also for this poet/writer/author Melissa A. Howells
and also for this legally registered and copyrighted @ site title
Meloo Straight From Her Tilt-a-World@
thank you for reading, make your own interpretations,
take what you will and leave the rest.
