Last pump of the heart to leave:
is that what they call a blessing?
The capacity
is the envy of everyone
but no one wants it
The sobering wintry walk
Is laced with salt
And broken regret
it mends then breaks
then mends all over again.
But no one wants to say
“That’s embarrassing!”
only pitiful glances
that turn exasperated
when your footsteps
have yet to find their pace again
but no one wants to push you.
You say you’d fall, shell would fracture
You’d be entirely exposed and scared
yet you already are
and no one wants to see it
