The red balloon in my chest--
It swells and pounds
And pitters around town,
To it's very own delight.
It wanders, and whimpers
And hints at secrets
That linger, indecipherable,
Even to it's owners might.
It throbs and seethes
The poignant things-
That no one wishes to endure.
It dances and prances
To seldom advances
Avoiding emptying, evermore.
Yet I find myself with a red balloon,
Tucked neatly beneath my chest,
Once deflated by love lost,
Inflated, once more.