Bled Out

Location

 

BLED OUT

 

This pale heart of mine

struggles with atony.

Paper curls rain down

from a fenestrated sky:

Reams of esoteric paeans 

     soon crumpled by bored scientists.

 

Lanterns hang in line,

swaying along vein-like ropes.

Slivered stars spin out

of a hematic night sky.

Eventide bows down to full dark,

     come to drown my reparations.

 

You hope to become

a surgeon, a healer.

You cut me open,

sliced tissue in your wonder.

Wealth bolstered your aspirations

     as your acumen grew sterile.

 

Balcony lights glow;

students studying o-chem.

Watching those stars whir,

a panoply now fading,

I extinguish each puerile flame.

     So too does my love burn to ash.

    

I hoped to counsel

the procession of wayward souls,

when all along I

bled out of neglected wounds.

Prescient doctors predict a

     Christmas disease before snowfall.     

 

 

 

 

 

 

This strong heart of mine

rests in a peaceful stasis,

caring for the innocence

and science of your mind.

 

 

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741