The Bleeding Heart
Quiet is the bleeding heart, it’s cries fall upon deaf ears. Cautiously maneuvering to save face, choking back the bitter tears. Pouring forth of emotions from dreams, falling further away. The heart beckons to love, churning and wasted ensuing days.
The bleeding heart, it’s shrill silent screams only pierce the silence within. Once a robust beat would rise, nothing more, no more strength to begin. Oddly familiar reoccurring loneliness, the nightmare of what could be. The bleeding heart wrapped in a shroud, for no one would hear, and now, no one will see.
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