ripped out
ripped out?
no, crushed
stomped on, left in place
still beating but out of time with life
fighting against the weight left behind
when they’d had enough and trashed the rest and you’re buried in the pile
waiting for another need to surface.
there’s no jump start,
no rhythm boost to make you beat in time again
with life that spills on along
poured from heaven on the happy ones
the fortunate ones
the companions.
time heals all wounds
and wounds all heels.
no vengeance in that
when knowing it uncovers a bruise, forgotten, a last piece un-plumped,
un-recovered.
Love fill it for me.