There is a secret in my heart.
It is sore and sometimes it bleeds,
I fix it up with ruby wine and cigarettes; just fine.
until it leaks again.
Again is today, accustomed to agony
I rally the allies.
we are one in our perpetual groove.
We snip and shape and carve our pain into little paths to nowhere.
Submerging each others sorrow
willingly,
blissfully falling
into the night, obliterating the hopes of tomorrow.
So,
I have patched and sewn my heart seams; in the only way I know.
But the secret will still stay there;
and everyday.
It grows.