by Elliott Bell
I gave my heart away to you –
It was an easy thing to do.
And when you placed it back in my hands,
You’d tied to it new heart-strands.
I didn’t notice immediately
Your little tugs and pulls on me.
You were an artist with your hands
I fell neatly into careful plans,
Not knowing what was happening,
So adept was your handling.
As you pulled on each strand,
I’d move in tandem with your hand,
Fearing the lonely touch of cold
That I’d feel if you lost hold.
Over time your pull intensified
As you came to realize
I’d do anything to stay your fingers
From tugging on my tender triggers.
But now you’re left pulling rather hard
To reach the tender past the scarred,
And I hold my heart gingerly
To keep it from further injury.
I don’t know what the future brings
But I can’t maintain these tangled strings.
I hope you’ll do as I have asked –
Let go the strands that you’ve amassed,
Let them fall away and fall apart
From my bruised and bleeding heart.