Bleeding Heart

Deep breath in; now, blow, blow, blow

Reluctance sits uncomfortably
in the middle of my chest
my heart beat skips and races
like a petulant child
and each day moves me one day
further from the source
of my discomfort, lack of intuition,
sense of betrayal and loss
I ponder less and less what was true
and what was not; illusions fade
– hands of the clock never stop
fact, fiction, fantasy, cosmic flip
pangs of grief and anger twist
in the wind awkwardly, a misfit,
one size does not fit all
and I replay the dance of Giselle
love beyond death, a widow scorned
it all makes me weary and as distrust
is isolated, caution is a flashing
red light that I will wear on my sleeve

…replacing the depths of my bleeding heart

©2021 TrilbyYates