“ Young Love Saves ”

A Lie

Photo by Author

My heart yesterday fell
Out my chest,
My palms raced to hold,
But through my fingers,
I saw life slip away.
It splattered
On the white tiles,
Below, staining it in the
Blue and black
Venom my veins hold.
The ridges on the ground
Below, didn’t seem
To budge.
The blood on my tiles,
Froze like frazils
In late November.
I tried to pick
It up, To sew
It back in.
With handkerchiefs
That are now relics,
I placed my heart
Back in it’s sanctuary.
But sacred, it
Remained no more.
The thumps were inaudible
And of air, it smelled
No more.

Threading the needle,
I sewed it back in.
In lines zig and zag,
That your fingers trace
In, a love’s frantic trance.
A door, easy to open,
I offered it.
It is a heart that beats
No more, and
Life is not red,
But water now.
The water, continues
To run to my lungs,
Flooded in colourless pallid,
Soaking in empty doors
At my hilum.
I gasp,
My vitals rush to my feet
Unable, to hold it
Anymore. They fight,
Denying to cease
Work. I’m injected,
With pictures of us
Running through the
Cannula, into my veins.
"It is the young love
That saves" I hear them
Say.

But you shut my eyes,
In front of the blood they pumped in
So I could smell of life no more.