The heart had bled,
Had scars
But – don’t they always come so
The most beautiful hearts – scarred

It wanted to kill itself,
Swing down the 10th floor terrace
Into the traffic below
Yet – they said to follow it
Fools, unknowing well wishers

Do we always need
To follow things – unsafe?
Particulars which bring us harm,
The morning coffee, the last cigarette or a heart

What about a burnt heart,
Or one with a hole –
Fixable,
But – what does one drenched in a baleful black do?
Squeeze it out?

Hearts are much like a melancholic melody,
When you look at them,
Reaching a crescendo then diminuenco
Finally receding into the late winter twilight

Upon my midsummer grave,
I laid my heart – bare and scarred
It was but a beautiful sight
Heart, naked on the dusky grave

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