VirginWriter

             Its love surpassed by infualce                           of the mind…                               ~that~                transforms into feeling           

Never too much heart, Not once, Even now, But scraping the inside of his chest, He knows something is dreadfully wrong. Cratered beats, Every shattered note that he sings Is a name that he loves too much to Leave his lips, For the fear that she might truly Vanish. He knows that no name for this exists, The wailing in the back of his skull That keeps him awake, Night after night when she drifts, Streaked with tears and bright in her pain, Through his head, Gripping the pulse just beneath his ribs, And tugging gently, Praying to him never to really go away. And the echoes never stop, Riding the blood, Tight on the reigns,

Do you know what this is like? You do?   Gee, Of course you do, Because you know Everything.   Well, Let's have a little lesson. I want you to take your Right hand, Place it on your chest. That's right, Over your heart. Now grip the skin. Twist. Dig in with your nails Until your flesh burns With the pain of impending Infection. Now push. Use your hand like a drill, Thread your fingers through Your ribs. Get a feel for the bone. Now, Move your hand just a Slight bit to the right. There. Do you feel the pulsing? The pumping? That's your heart. It's beating, Beating with beautiful life. No