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The Sound of Her Rusting Heart

In the black hole at the centre of a quiet, quiet night,

She stares at the ceiling,

And listens to the blood pumping through her ears,

And to the odd scrape and screech that comes from her rusting heart.

Once, it used to beat as strong as an ox,

And that was in the days when she was prepared for love and war,

But when no one came to call,

When no one brought her flowers,

Her heart began to fade…

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I'm not doing well lately. My mind is a mess.

I wish I could sleep through for one night.

During the day I can pretend that everything's fine

but at night, well ...

#rustingheart