Pieces III: The Disposable Heart

Fingers glide over smooth scars, bleed from ragged ruins.

Paint me in blood red, bathe me in night air. Scream so long, so deep even God takes a moment to look.

Silken touch slips my heart into its angry hands. Don’t beat, don’t beat. Hang on until it doesn’t pump blood. Let it weaken then move it into cold storage. Keep it docile with exile. It no longer works.

Scoop out my eyes so I can no longer see the disappointment dancing in the shroud before me. Set my skin on fire so I no longer crave to be touched, burn me so pain replaces hope.

Drown me in the depths of my broken pieces. Avert your eyes In shame and embarrassment. Wrap me in barbed wire so no one will ever approach again. Take all of me and dispose of me.

One. Last. Time.light-sky-people-woman

7 thoughts on “Pieces III: The Disposable Heart

  1. 3Tara, that is some deep pain you are sharing with us! Thank you, it’s an honor to be trusted with it. The pain seems to help you write some magnificent things, but I do sincerely hope you get some relief because you describe something that burns to the bone.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. There is still such immeasurable passion in all that pain. You just need the right person that can feel that pain with you and understand it’s not necessary to give you more. Some day.

    Liked by 1 person

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