the unreliable truth about my heart

You break the iris of my eye and the water gushes out and over the fall of my cheeks.

My heart tightens, suggesting that the rhythm is miscalculated again.

My left arm aches and I hear the doctors voice warning me about the possibility of an attack.

It’s not the medication, the dose or the palpitations of micrograms.

My heart is broken.

I trusted you and I offered my almond eyes to you.

Perhaps I gave them to you too early and the bitterness was still there.

That tree, where we sat and talked and held each others soul tenderly, decayed over time and the fruit fell before it was ripe. The birds took the succulence and flew away; wise and southerly.

I promise you this; you haven’t seen me fly but this rapid of emotion that we raft along doesn’t drown me, it inspires me. I’ve been practicing with the birds and they’ve shown me how to fly and I am ready to soar.

With or without my eyes.

With or without you.

© ryan

the unreliable truth about my heart

PJ Ryan

Melbourne, Australia

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