HEART

Looking at the ceiling,
Littered with brown
And browner splashes.
As if someone spilt
Coffee upside down.

Faint murmuring of
Voices far away,
But so near as if
Whispered in ears.
Said aloud but faint.

Hand is being lifted,
And face buried in,
And tears felt there,
On fingers as if
Hands rain inside.

Don’t go, small voice.
Will stay, I sign.
His trembling shape
Looks angry,
As if on purpose

I betrayed his trust,
By not being infallible,
By being mortal
After all, as if
A god, fallen.

This heart is broken.
Repair it, child,
Stitch it together
With your trust,
As if it never happened.

© Darren White