Heartless, they call me,
a silver dagger plunged
and twisted
into a red hot
*****,
knives severing arteries
and veins until I
unravel like dropped
wool,
my blood cells fighting
the infection of close contact
with a society
that would not stand
for me,
heartless isn't born,
it grows in the space
between love and hate,
blooms out of the dark soil
the seeds of shame and blame,
thrives when it's locked away
in a (rib) cage, behind bars
like a circus freak,
sometimes, I long to feel
but then I hear of heartbreak,
heartsickness, and I am glad that mine
does not beat...