Heart 3

Alone, in the haunted dungeon of my mind,

Shadows disguised as nightly ghosts,

I see his steely eyes, almost smiling

At the wound he carved upon my heart.

The air hangs still, an imprisoning cloud,

Impeding the flow of time,

I am chained, in this eternal instant,

To a dream that breathed and died.

My soul, once illuminated by imagined love,

Learned to dance, as if inflamed

By its own symphony of celebration.

Now, I drift deeper into the void of night,

Where grief and solitude sing a lullaby

That carries me into the solace of sleep.

©Nazanine 2003