The Sound of Her Rusting Heart
The Sound of Her Rusting Heart
In the black hole at the centre of a quiet, quiet night,
She stares at the ceiling,
And listens to the blood pumping through her ears,
And to the odd scrape and screech that comes from her rusting heart.
Once, it used to beat as strong as an ox,
And that was in the days when she was prepared for love and war,
But when no one came to call,
When no one brought her flowers,
Her heart began to fade…
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