Sanctuary [Poetry]

xxxvi

The pain is
my heart being
sucked from within,
like a vacuum cleaner
that even the smallest
of dots can clean.

The pain is set
in slow motion,
on indefinite repeat
with no caution.

The veins surrounding
my heart,
creating chaos
right from the start,
the blood will sing
a very tuned hate
from the heartaches
I served
without a plate.

Without anything
to spare,
without daring
to care—
I let it waged war,
leaving invisible
scars
that only exist
deep inside,
and no one knew
I died.

The pain is a hole
without injury,
There's no blood but
it's black and empty.
It hurts a lot I
can't breathe.
I suppressed it
in secret
with gritting teeth.

--
Invisible heartburn,
4Nov2019