Monday 27 July 2015

The Heart

The heart is a muscle
The most vital of vitals
Ceaseless until forever quieted
A simple set of motions
Crucial to all others
And yet
The heart is so much more

The heart is alive
It yearns 
It breaks
It heals
It speaks
It hides
It questions
It answers

The heart is a tattoo
The marks, permanent
Created through pain
Expressive, a thing of beauty
It can be individual, unique 
It can be a copy, a passing fad
Not every one is easy to understand
The meaning behind it's shape
It's placement
It's colour
Could be more than you could every understand

The heart is a coin
Try your luck
One choice or another
Flipping it covers one face
But that doesn't mean it's not still there
You long for one option the moment it hit the air
It doesn't always land on the side you really wanted
Even if it may be hard to pick up off the ground afterwards
You can always choose to flip again
When you feel ready

The heart is a box
Some are locked
Or chained down by terrible weight
It can be filled with treasures, or sadly empty
Housing such agonizing joy
Such delicious pain

The heart is a beast
Many faced
It is a lion 
With a terrible bite and harsh tone
It is a porcupine
Withdrawn within itself, only to hurt those nearby
It is a tortoise
Defending through solitude, an unbreakable, unreadable wall
It is a fawn
Speaking only the softest of words, it is delicate, and loving
The governing face, constantly shifting
Constantly combining with another aspect
An everchanging beast

The heart is a muscle
But it is so much more

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