What of this heart

I know this character called brain

somewhere she illustrates her train

of thought


but, what of this heart, i hear

somehow unearthed in a tear

falling by the wayside


To be alive, a soul must weigh

itself in mind and grey

to the matter, unknown


In deed, you seek

to retain not the weak

love, but more


The space surrounds

breath, and masks hound

the truth


Fear, is not mind alone

but bosom shorn

of spine


Let me seek my heart

not in part





In inverted arrows

pointing elsewhere

to be announced