her heart was hand hewn,
a butchered block of aged wood –
heavy,
weathered,
cracked and dry
it no longer beat;
it only pained her,
its weight a foggy barrier,
keeping distance or closing in –
she wasn’t sure which
all she knew was that it hurt,
its splinters scraping against its walls,
gnashing at the soft tissue,
tearing through
and flooding her chest with dust
-image via Pixabay
Heart Breathings 