Broken Bleeding Heart
"When everything that ticked—has stopped—
And Space stares—all around—
Or Grisly frosts—first Autumn morns,
Repeal the Beating Ground—" Emily Dickinson
I can't hear the beat of my own heart, it was silenced between the gasps of your last breaths and the touch of time as they stripped you of life. I remember standing there holding your hands as they fell from grip, resting atop your chest. I still see you there, like a shadow on a moonlit wall, distorted darkness that bends in the wind's call. The trees dance in its gossamer breath, much like my mind in its recollection, as their leaves twirl around and then spiral down towards the ground. They are more grounded than I am these days, I seem to get lost in the frame of memories that Autumn always brings forth. I hear you whisper my name in fragmented frames of mind as I bleed August across the folds of life and death.
drops of crimson fall
like autumn leaves upon ground
my heart bleeds the same
July 20, 2019
Writing Challenge 2, July 2019- Melancholy- Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Dear Heart
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