worn pair of jeans, knees with holes
thighs even wearing through
offer security in familiarness
fit tight to body sharp edges having
worn covering away
sit and think about blood in veins
and out of veins
and of the broken heart that moves
all that blood around
life and death only the matter of
inch of flesh
exposed

my heart sloughs off
in layers-pieces red
crimson flowers dying
turn sickly grey
gathered, cupped in hands
a curiosity only. will glue
stick them back on at
a later date or like a tooth
must be replaced with
cold metal and porcelain
never melds with the original flesh
functional but never the same temperature

I would not go back and start over
it would only mean
feeling the pain a second time
and knowing the foolishness of it all
how can I change anything when
I only followed my heart
and as it is still beating
I still walk the same path

consolation does not come
before your desolation
lonely place is where
one can only
cause more pain
not make laws
for the heart
don't speak to me anymore