Beating Reject

There’s a lump, a weight clinging to my collarbone. 

I’ve only just realized that it is my heart, 

who is desperately trying to free herself from my chest cavity 

that caved in after absorbing the weight of our last breath. 

Salted tear drops sting as they trickle down heartstrings to

form watercolor style stains on the lungs

as they desperately heave, begging for oxygen that is not there. 

My feet on the road beneath me that now sparkles with a

shattered soul, shards glinting like little eyes watching me from below.

But those diamond blue eyes mean nothing to me. 

They are nothing to meticulously crafted dark honey 

sat in shining glass bowls of the only one I allowed to see through me.

The echoes of old wounds snap at me like jaws of angry wolfhounds,

and to stop my organs bleeding from their bites I will pack the wounds

with adhesive, and bandage them with old photographs from a time 

we weren’t so damaged. He caught glints of silver and white

from the time capsules in my mind, thinking they were 

something special though it was just the sour taste of lime. 

Silver could be beautiful but he is gold and obsidian 

carefully tended to by Spirits that dare not leave one scratch.

There’s a lump, causing chaos in my throat.

It is just my heart, and so I clench my jaw and

grind my teeth to keep her in but every so often

bits of her leak out through my nose.

She forces her way to an escape only to form a 

blushing puddle of anxious love on a perfectly clean shirt.


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