In the therapy session
Taking place in my head at
Two in the morning,
I argued
That cold hearts beat too slowly
To properly function,
And that eventually, they stop working at all,
'Cause the frost gets to them before
The safety makes it in
Time.
But the other me disagreed.
No, she said,
Cold hearts beat all the same as normal ones.
'Cause it's been so long,
They've gotten used to
The temperature of drowning.
Their rhythm is nice and even.
They're just waiting for something to come along
To make things
Irregular.
YOU ARE READING
A Touch of Wonder
PoetryA book of poetry filled with thoughts, experiences, and emotions. "As I walk down the slippery street, My face streaming with tears, The sadness can barely be sustained. But you suddenly kiss away my fears, My dear umbrella in the rain."
