Who needs love
When I have this
Profusion of blood
Pouring from my
Tin can heart
Feeding my pen?
I’ve been kicked open
My tears the paint
Covering a hundred
Watercolor canvases
Coaxing life into
All the inert objects
Scattered around me
If you listen closely
You could swear
The paper has a voice
Speaking to me
Though some say
I’m overreacting
I baffle at their
Innate certainty
Their calm under fire
Giving in to loss
Accepting heartache
And coming out
Stronger than ever
My tin can heart
Rattles in the wind
Down a dark alley
Lost to the night
Beyond recognition
And the light

— B.


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