Hearts Still Care

The sky has dropped its foul, grey hue
Upon this world and me;
And when the wind comes howling through,
It brings no felicity.

The birds have lost their will to sing,
And mourn this darkened hour;
The sun becomes a had-been thing,
Which once had supreme power.

Those clouds that touch the earth are dark
And cover the surfaces of seas;
While ashes billow with each spark
And hound all like swarms of bees.

The world has no more flowers to offer
And there are thorns, thorns in my way;
And, I know, my blooms lie in a coffer,
But my thorns will not wilt away.

4th August

When you know what has been on my mind,
Insecurities and heartache, I let you find,
You behave as though a fly buzzed past
Which was more insignificant that the last.
My exposed heart burst with frantic pain,
So I pick it up and squeeze it once again.
I don’t like to see it fallen at your feet,
Your nose turned from the smell beneath.
I don’t like my blood upon your shoes,
You’ll be hampered if your laces come loose.
And I wouldn’t want you to soil your hands,
They are needed to care for your sought-after glands.
The appendages of others, too, need your tending,
So I pick up my heart – it’s just a matter of bending.
I want to let the poor, smelly thing die –
But I can’t let it – I don’t know why!
Perhaps some other hands
Were made to let it rest –
Hold and love it, seal and protect it,
Though within my chest.

8th May
10pm