Monday, May 23, 2011

The Shape Of It

i think we give pieces of our heart away

if we knew the length of their residence elsewhere
perhaps we would be more cautious

but then we would wind up with nothing but our whole heart,
just an organ pumping
rather than the flute it becomes
memories fingering windpipe holes
like yesterday's reasoning and tomorrow's knowledge

perhaps there is no getting over
only through
as seems right

love is not something to be overcome, but to become one with
reconciled in either the having
or the have not
decks delt, cards stacked 

but there remains the space of it
the shape it was, and always is
melodic and missing.


lw said...

really beautiful, clueless
i agree
the love always remains

ShoeBox said...

I like the imagine of the heart full of holes, yet melodic...pied pipper to whatever might follow the loss. Thanks LW.