misplaced anger? lost love?
a clash of hearts beating the days away.
the present organs grieve for the ghost
who must choke on an absent heart.
the body lives, the blood flows,
but who knows what pumps it along?
could it be that vein, seeking to feign
emotion flowing in shallower tones?
that deep red hue has been left to stew
and it grows darker in the shade
but the sun shines in, with a charming grin,
and overturns the pot it has made.
i'm not sure which scar could still itch
but i've thrown up all over your fresh start.
i've hid my resentments in the wrong place
and i don't remember where i left that heart.
