The heart can only wait so long before it becomes

a mere shell of veins & arteries;

after the blood has begun to pool

and the sighs have become too much to hold—

it becomes just like any other *****;

a necessity,

but without the mirage of wonder—

a gift,

but without the illusion of possibility.

—-

and i assure you that this heart

weighs heavily

with the burdens you have not asked it to hold,

but that it still wished to alleviate.

—-

So as my fingers begin to blue

and the circulation comes to a close,

I wait Six more days

for your whisper of life.