Death of a Thousand Cuts

Incessant whispers crawl
Through emotions sharpened
On sheets that have no wish
To hold strong my form
Or wrap me in caress,
But leave bloodshed as I roam
Through fibres where dead cells
Are carelessly shed.

Resigned I lie listening
So many have so much to say,
Resounding fickle clatter
Crowded by feverish chatter,
Heartbeat flutters in pain

Open up

My heart is scarred

I imagine

No longer fresh, blood red
But grey lifeless muscle
Bearing countless names
Of old ghosts and new,
That reside inside reminding
While climbing through chambers,
Murmur in chorus perched on aorta

Maybe I’ll turn volume on mute

As memories are carved on this
Weary broken heart,
For there is no shield
In which to protect
The stemming of loss,
Or fine gold stitches
To sew with delicate love
To make whole, to beat as new.

To be sleeping beauty
To sleep for a hundred years,
To allow heart to heal
Banish all hurtful impressions,
Luxurious slumber with no cost,
Hibernate in land of nod
While sun continues to rise
And

F
A
L
L

Wait
Wait
For one who can make sense of it all
For my heart cannot

Thoughts as I lie
Upon sheets soiled with life
Words of no meaning,
I beg my heart
Stop weeping
Start healing
It beats with no sense of rhythm
Or palpable hope.
I wonder if perhaps
This heart of mine
Is slowly dying.