does a heart ever fully heal?
does any part though i suppose?
memories are the blades against
the bindings of the brokenhearted,
spreading the pieces strung together
into a new sort of falling,
away from in--well beyond out.
but we're content with our slings
and time, swinging away--
tossing aside another wrapper,
a cover to bring you something better.
it's like a donut really--
cream filled of course,
for we aren't holes at our core.
but only a deep bite will reveal--
we might be surprised by the flavor;
it might be too much filling;
perhaps pausing at our indulgence;
or simple distaste.
the good news of course is that
it's just a donut, cheap,
which can be dropped away--
no obligation to finish.
it's probably better for you that way anyway.
so begin the search
for one to take away the pain,
a new meal for a sickened stomach.
we can all sing along--
all you need is
the next love.
a salve over the old cracks,
so that no cords are needed again.
nor their binder.
a rag no more
to wipe this shit away,
to try to get a clear view.
a fool no more
full of simple trust,
weary of prevalent self-deception.
the shadow sometimes reaches into the light;
the peace feels the old shaking.
and i wonder which holds the greater sway
when i hate the dying more than the death--
still surrounded by life and light and embrace,
though not my own.
a meal entirely unsatisfying,
on the menu for months to come.