Sponge

When I envision my heart,

There is no generic symbol with two bumps,

Nor a veiny organ pulsating.

My mind is enriched with an image of a sponge,

Porous, drenched in consumption.

Yet to my surprise, able to expand in capacity.

Like a sponge, my heart invites all foreign' s of life in,

My heart is simpler than complex.

Naive, unsuspecting, hopeful, accepting, intimate,

Many adjectives I am fond of.

I am comfortable, contempt, satisfied.

I was. But seasons change.

Every so often I become distraught, disturbed, & uneasy.

It, That, He, I, Life, everything becomes unbearable.

I am forced to expel the life that once fulfilled my "sponge".

Depleting, draining, but still particles remain.

Left untamed the negative rapidly multiply,

Each particle neglected feeding off of one another.

My sponge becomes questionably significant at this time.

Questions arise, thoughts make their rounds like a cyclone has bombarded my brain.

But my "sponge", is still present,

Still operating, manifesting, & guiding through the torrential weathers.

When all else has failed to operate my temple,

My "sponge," my heart remains.

Thank you "sponge," for never giving up.

I love you. 

07/31/2019