Warm cords striking the piano gently.
My feelings accept isolation.
I agree with the unpopular opinion.
These thoughts; a cognitive dissonance.

All of this could be a consequence.
A superstition of intemperament.
I cannot recognize anything.
It feels like one big elaborate dream.

Through the static I feel the presence.
Eerie notes block my judgement.
I feel sympathy for something that doesn't exist.
My mind's eye feeling out of tune.

Tears from my forehead trickle down.
Single keys punctuate the atmosphere justly.
Everything in my heart becomes blind.
With the pianist caress; it becomes empty.
A warm place stuck in time.

You can do
99 things
You can hug
Love
And share with someone
But they will only
Remember
You didn't kiss them
You can do the dishes
Sweep
And clean the kitchen
But they will only
Remember
You didn't wash the cupboards

Laying here lethargically
listless
remote
uninterested

My Heart cowers in the corner
Begs my Brain to fix it
Make it all right again

And it wants to;
It does.

When Heart hurts Brain wants to take up arms
To defend Heart's purity

But here we all sit
uncurious
apathetic
stupefied

Brain is callous to the world
But won't let the world take Heart.
She is still the princess in the gardens
Playing with the butterflies.

Heart will be protected.

So Brain sends out the anesthetics
To try and settle Hearts palpitations.

But when that happens,
The vivaciousness is lost.

And we sit here
dazed
detached
aloof

Maybe tomorrow Brain thinks,
We can try and bring her back.

Make her Lively
Spirited
SPARKLING, again.

But it must be a little at a time
These things can't be rushed

Where Heart is concerned,
They take time.

So for now,

indifferent
melancholy
torpid
is how she must be.

I dream a cemetery
Shadows and silhouettes taking the hand
And guiding the traveler to a grave
No morning comes with flowers
No hymns are sung
No prayer begun
I dream an empty planet
I'm afraid of the clouds where she might be
Lost in darkened hopeless sight
Where no sun is shining now
No stars
No horizon
I dream the birds are crying
A lingering pall and hidden tears
Wings are broken
Nest abandoned
And me
I dream a yellow field
Once with planted seeds
A scarecrow menace lurking
No warning
Only wind
The crow has gone away