poetry

Recyclable Heart

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The silence of inward tears, 

flooded non-stop, 

the last 10 years. 

The leaky faucet, 

that kept the heart awake, 

night after night,

dreading, 

unsettling, 

sitting on the edge of the bed,

the tub

in darkness, 

saturated in it’s fate.

While defective 

deceptions, 

playback in red. 

Of a road

that should’ve been taken, 

instead.

Stuck in a hamster wheel, 

of spinning words 

twirling, 

spiraling, 

one side often, left unheard.

As a controlled deal

concocts the plan, to scatter convictions, 

leaving the heart unfulfilled and aggressively conditioned.

Each circumstance messier, more grimmier than before, 

to mark anniversary’s regret calendar,  when it crossed the threshold, 

entering marriage’s,

wheel of fortuned, door.

A temper too bad, 

with a mouth too slick, 

as he began picking a scab’s wound, with nails bitten to the quick. 

In a personal vendetta against her aloof, peace.

He began, yelling, 

telling, what he could have, 

had, easily.

Her laugh, 

viciously burnt his feet running toward anger’s hot coals, 

stopping at nothing to pierce the deflated heart’s, rebirth phase

to restore its loving goals.

Aware he’d pull every stop, 

in making its beat, mad.

Yet it was too late, 

the heart was too drained by the strain of the union, 

no longer, holding the same fire inspired, to desirably want it, 

that bad. 

Turning bittersweet and cold, years before, in actuality, too what it should have, had.

Always on offense, holding contempt at bay, concerned by his broken ego

always curbed, it’s real say.

Finding this entire song and dance, 

exhautingly, useless. 

Lackadaisically snide by its adult distribution, while he took the low childish route, 

that lost, 

typically as usual.

No longer seeing him worthy of the journey, her heart tried on its new layer, as he watched in anguish, no longer able to betray.

 Her heart became warm, 

inviting, 

excitedly, inciting, 

renewing interest and strings, no longer isolated and venting,

but open, lovably likable.

Which totally infuriated him, as this was a first, 

how she just tuned him out,

as her heart quenched a recyclable thirst. 

To be continued…

Poetry Lesson By Tamara Moore 


Thinker on the Loose 

Copyright (c) 2017 Reserved purposes intended for Sharpest Perception a road less Traveled. 

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