Reverb13 Day3: What does your heart have to tell you?
Oh, Pensée, give me a poet heart, tucked up my sleeve, to tell my secrets with its rhythm; a heart that listens to the new moon night of crow black sky and rain wet winds. This pinewood cot is old and cold, and slashes at my wishes; I am lost here in this wounded room, until you can return. You wear your heart sewn in your sleeve, the stitches deep beneath your skin; the pain is in your poetry, and your rhythm in the pulsing. I hold my hands tight on my heart; I swear I do, I listen, but all I hear are screams and whispers from somewhere deeper than these walls and windows.