Nadie es aqui (amber_moon) wrote in poetry_love,
Nadie es aqui
amber_moon
poetry_love

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This Heart
I gave you this heart,
both hands cupping the red organ.
It pulsed with life then,
whole, healthy and yours.
There was no mention of safekeeping,
no spoken promises,
but it was quietly understood
that you'd place it next to yours,
so that they would both beat together,
in rhythm.
One heart would lead;
the other would share its blood.

I give you this heart,
its cadence diminishing,
uneven, palpitations throbbing in my hands.
The space next to your heart is empty,
where mine should reside,
but was uncannily removed.
Tell me why you extracted the pink tissue,
why you felt it was necessary.
Its rhythm fluctuates,
needing another match itself with.
Now, this heart's rhythm is syncopated,
to the meter that yours thrives in.
It's a lonely beat, by itself, isn't it?

I would have given you this heart,
but it was renounced before
I could extract it for your safekeeping.
It will beat on its own,This Heart
I gave you this heart,
both hands cupping the red organ.
It pulsed with life then,
whole, healthy and yours.
There was no mention of safekeeping,
no spoken promises,
but it was quietly understood
that you'd place it next to yours,
so that they would both beat together,
in rhythm.
One heart would lead;
the other would share its blood.

I give you this heart,
its cadence diminishing,
uneven, palpitations throbbing in my hands.
The space next to your heart is empty,
where mine should reside,
but was uncannily removed.
Tell me why you extracted the pink tissue,
why you felt it was necessary.
Its rhythm fluctuates,
needing another match itself with.
Now, this heart's rhythm is syncopated,
to the meter that yours thrives in.
It's a lonely beat, by itself, isn't it?

I would have given you this heart,
but it was renounced before
I could extract it for your safekeeping.
It will beat on its own,
in the cup of my hands,
tired, weakened, but resistant.
Never before, have I given my heart due respect;
having given it to those who do not deserve
the warmth of its blood,
and its soothing flow.
But with this precious organ in my hand,
its warmth creeping into my hands,
I realize it should have been given to you.
in the cup of my hands,
tired, weakened, but resistant.
Never before, have I given my heart due respect;
having given it to those who do not deserve
the warmth of its blood,
and its soothing flow.
But with this precious organ in my hand,
its warmth creeping into my hands;
I realize it should not have been given to you.
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