17 Days

 

17 Days

Since last we saw each other,

See here, what I have done

These are the strings I have attached

Like a fine puppeteer to my heart

Knotted the aorta to the blue line,

The pulmonary atrium to the green,

And the left ventricle to the red.

The blood rushes through smoothly

Then twist into tangled messes.

Floating around violently against the

Left atrium digging against the wall

Looking for exits that don’t exist.

I have so little control pulling at the strings,

As you well know.

All the valves working, but the rhythm is off.

A skipped beat, a forgotten moment,

Another lonely night.

I am a sloppy puppeteer, my dear.

I am not good at the slight tugs of the lines,

The sudden pulls to move right,

The operation of the emotion.

I want to be a master class

More agile and elegant

Moving like you do,

Nearly enchanting the strings to work on their own.

So I have this sad puppet of a heart

Which I hand over begrudgingly.

It belongs with someone that knows how to use it.

Entertain the women to come

With the way you can make it dance

And manipulate it to stop

Advertisements
  • Calendar

    • October 2017
      M T W T F S S
      « Jul    
       1
      2345678
      9101112131415
      16171819202122
      23242526272829
      3031  
  • Search