The Uncanny Heart

I know this to be a broken heart
I know this from experience
I recognize this malady
this discomfort this ache

Broken ribs pierce a lung,
air slowly seeps into the cavity,
now empty, where my heart resided
before it burst, shattering ribs
puncturing the lung
not enough to kill me,
just enough to make me tired,
something about not enough oxygen to the brain
as it slowly fills the empty space,
leeching useless into the body
it no longer feeds

The twinge of vacancy
causing glazed eyes, mislaid thoughts,
forgotten desires…motives not worth the effort
of their eventual loss.

But this uncanny feeling is not what confuses me –
there is comfort in its familiarity
and shelter in the dark,
no hazards to lose what is not there –
what elation, what faith, what ambition?
All absent with the forfeiture of my core –

What obscures conclusion
is that no injury has occurred,
no sudden travesty or infirmity,
so what has generated such a heartache,
a brain sickness?

What is missing, save happiness itself –
which can still be found in
the blue sky
a good song
time with friends
a joke, a laugh
books and escapism –
an unsettling lack of loss dictates
at least an indifferent condition be established
– but not the torment of
heartbreak

Bits of mystery spill from the
Pandora box that now endures
in the airy space under my sternum.

Press on.
Let lack of heart not be distraction,
No more to wear upon my sleeve,
only a secret my face cannot keep.

 

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