Eleven Twenty-Thirty Six

sighs invade my fingertips, scratching whorls and loops-- and all that comes to mind is the littleness of my heart. of how it cannot take this, that, much, of regret-grief-silence this realization, (the smallness of my heart) makes me sad, but somewhat also falls into place of how I have become numb, dumb, bumbling I never seem to do enough for others, yet do so much for some Those that I don't do enough for, seems to have needed them (as well I) Those that I do much for, flick me off like a speck of lint, .... and they don't need me after all :'( either way, I still lose them so this comes to mind, thus the roots of my num(b)itty-ness: be silent, my miniscule heart I don't think you have enough room in your chambers to s h a t t e r anymore 15th November 2014