the prevalent literary subject
the inevitable centerpiece
the time worn muse
it is heartache, she sings
drenched in moonlight
resting alone, she is seen
she is sought after
her hands are delicate,
her body weak
heartache is growing older
sterile to the world
but we still search for her
she sings in us
sweet bleeding
for artists around
take pieces of her and
exhibit them in their own way
heartache has grown grey