To look the other way, while
the heart’s desperately pounding-cheering, but veering toward unfamiliar grounds.
While time is ticking, it’s kicking, scathing, slowly wasting away, tasting old bruises, chasing in haste, to check out what’s around.
Never quite known by its own existence regarding commitment issues, only in passing, of issurer’s assistance.
While sorely tired in the waiting games, the heart’s became so use to being used, abused, insulted, and shamed.
Certainly in great need of proper healing, full mending, and bandaging, from years brought on by scarrs and ending brandishing.
Fearing death, in it’s murmur’s moan,
the skipped slowness,of its injured tone.
Never to be sped up and shared indentically, by another heartm Not even the cheating one’s that in past played lessoned parts.
Asserting hurt so deep down to the marrow of a bone,
but a heart settling no longer second guesses bad reasoning, for it finds peace in just feeling, and it beats living out its days alone.
Poetry By Tamara Dorsey-Moore
Thinker on the Loose
Copyright (c) 2017 Reserved purposes intended.