The Stream.

May 6, 2009
By OfTheFaithful GOLD, Litchfield Park, Arizona
OfTheFaithful GOLD, Litchfield Park, Arizona
13 articles 2 photos 0 comments

In a distant valley, my love resides.
Running through the meadows.
She does not wish to meet my eyes.
For in them are her sorrows.
She is far away.
For she is afraid.
I have found my heart floating along in the stream.
Was it her's to give away?
Beating, as it made its way down the creek.
The stream runs down.
So where will it go?
Down to the bottom of the ocean?
Someone will find it along the way.
Her surgical tools lay in the grass.
Flies scatter around the bloody scene.
And I stand before her,
She falls to her knees.
Begs for her forgiveness.
That I would take her back.
How could I do that?
I am now heartless.
For you ripped it out and let the trout push it against the rocks.
Scraped and bruised, it remained beating.
Dim, but powerful.
She tossed her scalpel and thread into the forest.
She does not need them.
Should I lift her up, search down the stream and give it back?
Or let the new one find it, ponder over it, and hold it dearly for me.
For you had no use for my heart,
As you have cast it into the river.
My eyes close, I fall into the river and let the fishes's ripples guide me down the valley.
I loved you.
And now my heart lay at the bottom of the ocean.
Go back to medical school,
And learn how to put back together a broken heart.
Then, you may know love.

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