The Rolling Heart

My heart has hit the floor and it’s rolling,
violent waves inside moving forward and back,
my little dread filled ocean of red.

It is sinking within itself over and over,
reaching the bottom to float to the top,
to sink again while it escapes me.

If only it would break but for now it just cracks,
hair line fractures on its cold dead walls,
mapping its way over its veins.

Wishing it would just come home and flutter,
to quiver with excitement once more,
tickled from below by butterflies.

Heartbreak and the Cowboy

The oppressive sadness of being laughed at,
pervading grey blue wraps itself around here,
a silk spectre at this plastic feast of fakery.
Prying eyes and ears molest everyone in sight,
again cocooned in a blanket of hateful air,
gold makes a dramatic exit from the situation.
The queen of heartbreak haunts the scene
and the cowboy makes himself at home next door,
dreams of a killing spree of crimson and wine.
Heart and stomach removed with teaspoon,
sleep and defeat kick a hole in the wall,
then hit and kiss each other until they bleed.