Black Hearts

Hey everrrryboooodddyyyy! I’m back! It’s been a while since I’ve had the satisfying click clack of black keys under my fingertips (if you are wondering, as an internet junkie, it feels almost as good as the great amounts of ice cream I have reserved in my fanny over the past month). Rather, my fingers have been thuds on a small smashed iPhone screen – not as satisfying, but it fed the hunger.
Here’s one of the pieces I wrote on the road. I’ve felt pretty hopeless lately with friends losing love and/or fighting the distant pull on their heart strings. So, here is a cheesy little piece of my heart, about that, in literary form.


Part I:

She prefers a heart that burns and bleeds red.
Sparking for new adventure,
Blazing for a deeper lust,
Smouldering from the graze of another.

It burnt bright for all to see,
Until it lost its feed and dissipated into nullity.
Until there was nothing but dark ash and lingering ghosts of passed bliss.
And all she saw in her reflection was one cold, hollow corpse.

A heart burnt to black,
Sparked into empty space.
Blazed to crisp.
And smouldered into nothing.

The end.

Part II:

One can find these ashes at her bedside.
Until another comes who is worthy of her pulse.
Until her dependency is stacked between the bones that keep her standing.
Until the ashes of her once was heart build the drop-dead bad-ass hop in her step.
The day her heart burnt black and bled from red to sparse,
was everything but the end.

To be continued.


All my heart,



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