It’s that feeling.
When my heart is split in two,
My stomach squeezes tight.
Forcing me to catch my breath,
Stop mid sentence and stare at nothing,
Wondering ‘is it true’?
The one that lurks in the corners of my thoughts.
An abandoned realization,
Seeking destination,
That I shove back into my hiding place.
The music box opens wider,
The sound pores out,
Sinks its fangs of truth to skin,
Bleeding Questions.
The green monster breathes,
Giving life to the heartless.
The foul aroma of hate slithers up my throat,
Resides on my vocals,
Ready to burst, shout, scream.
But that monster is locked deep down.
And the key is hidden elsewhere.
Until something really stirs it up again,
It will remain in my music box.
Motionless, heart thrumming with the rest of my being.