Recyclable Heart


The silence of inward tears,
flooding non-stop,
the last 10 years.
The leaky faucet,
that keeps the heart awake,
night after night,
sitting on the side of the bed
in darkness,
saturated in its fate.
While defective
playback in red.
Of a road
that should’ve been taken,
Stuck in a hamster wheel,
by spinning words
one side often left unheard.
As a controlled deal
concocts a plan to scatter convictions,
leaving the heart unfulfilled and conditioned.
Each circumstance messier, more grimmier than before,
to mark anniversary’s regret calendar,
crossing a threshold, too
enter 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 an aloof, peace.
He began, yelling,
telling, what he could have,
had, easily.
The laugh,
viciously burnt the feet running toward, anger on hot coals,
now he’d stop at nothing to pierce the dying hearts rebirth, in its goal.
Aware he’d pull every stop,
in making its beat mad.
But it was too late,
the heart was too drained by the strain of the union,
no longer wanted it,
that bad.
Turning cold and bitter,
to what indeed,
it could have,
Instead of always on offense, holding contempt at bay,
concerned by his broken ego’s,
steps that urged it’s real say.
Finding this entire song and dance,
exhautingly, useless.
Lackadaisically snide in its adult distribution, as he took the low childish route that lost,
typically as usual.
Never seeing him, truly worthy,
her heart tried on its new layer, as he watched,
it become warm and inviting, inciting, invigorating, with renewed interest and strings,
no longer seething,
but likable,
it infuriated him,
how she just tuned him out
to recycle, and soar higher with new wings.
..To be continued.
Poetry Lesson By Tamara Moore
Thinker on the Loose
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