My heart has no vacant lots.
Going just around the corner,
I see its many blocks,
I tried to warn her.
There's a quarter for misery and pain,
with hedges of the dimmest stone,
a yard for those out of the game,
and another for the friends who moan.
Just on the right side of this quarter,
there are tall shiny buildings made of glass,
I often go all the way to its border
always bearing the fear of some crash.
The south sections of my crowded heart
are dropping small quantities of blood,
it's a leaking problem of some part
that once in a while sink me in mud.
It bleeds so that I know I'm alive
It's reality conquering from within
needing to remind myself to strive
above all and in my beloved's heart lean.
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