There’s a time in the heart
where all things go to rust
and to forget
is not the path
to forgiveness.
When one hand claps
the world falls down.
Little strings
old sheer tissues lob off and peel away
creating a raw clean mess
that can only be healed by a new love.
So for now
the heart only feels what it wants to feel
empty as a plastic cup.
Clear clouded calamity.
So far away is the future
murky as the waters that puff in the wind
away they go, singing out into eternity.