If indeed I had a heart,
If the beat I felt did prove,
I think, my dears, you’ve stopped it –
I’ve no muscle there to move.
My chest, it seems, rings hollow now,
As an elder oaken sentry.
The trees they watch the shadows slip,
As I lay bereft upon your entry.
The embarrassment is first, of course,
The searing ache comes after.
Your confusion to my confession near catalyst,
That swift descent and swing from rafter.
But there is more to living I hear,
Than wallowing in lost Love-
That fickle bitch of hopeful “What if -”,
(Who deserves striking from above).
So though young am I in years,
The wiser still I hope, with time.
I’ll grow and overcome the absence of,
Your lives to share with mine.
For there is much to say of Solitude,
And the peace that it may bring.
I think for now I’d rather peace,
Than any broken ‘Loving’ thing.
A sham of Love is not but toxic,
And should be torn asunder.
I find I miss that beating thrum –
I want a heart again to Wonder.