No windows in this room,
Yet there is a shadow that has fallen over this bleeding heart.
It has fallen to sweep me off this tattered ground
That I have memorized with my hands.
Each crack has been a tailored picture of this life.
I bleed these memoirs these fading pictures of a shell that used to be.
Once existing as an impression, but the fire never took.
Imperfection within the due process
But there you are enveloping me again.
Every touch, a feeling of saturation,
A restructuring of a vessel going to the wheel.
This has reversed the depletion of a hemorrhaging heart.
Pressing back to something beautiful