The Chest
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Eye-opening, the chest. Ears attentive. Is there any way to escape his fate?
No walls beat; it is the heart within my own chest.
Turn the key; open wide; you look a bit distressed.
The pulse inside my own chest, a throbbing mess.
Pick it up; won’t you massage it with finesse?
Your lips are red and trembling dear; say something.
Something seems to be amiss from your wan coloring.
Surely you recall when you broke it; I saved it,
Just so we might stroll heart to heart into the pit.
Dear, don’t look so dully afraid; turn the music key;
It’s our song. You don’t recall our breakup melody?
I know the heart looks cruelly bruised and irregular;
for a regular guy who’s tender, isn’t it spectacular?
I know you’d curse, if your lips weren’t burning blue.
Poor baby, it gets worse, you’re invited to a barbeque.
Copyright © Kim Rodrigues | Year Posted 2025
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