Derelict Heart

What is this distance

that you clutch so firmly

to your breast, leaving me no rest

in the dark, stillness of night?

My soul takes flight and dreams

of brighter days. Some far distant shore

where waves crash and beat

against emptiness. Born of fire

of love of pain, we stand again--

impasse. A fog of delusional thinking

drinking in the silence of time,

passing by the shallows of illusion.

A profusion of apathy plays

in your derelict heart. Reaching

but not touching--hiding embers

beneath the ice, you slice

the heart right out of me.

Set it free! Set it free.

on wings shorn of deceit

where lovers meet; dancing

beneath a cold hard moon.

 

Copyright: S. Michele Smith

 

Done